《Deep Dark Secret (Secret McQueen #3)》


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    Chapter One


    Thrones are a pain in the ass.


    Shifting uneasily in the hard wooden chair, I tried not to let my discomfort show, but I¡¯d been parked here for almost three hours and now my butt had fallen asleep. It didn¡¯t help that I¡¯d been asked to adhere to a strict dress code, and the high-waisted charcoal pencil skirt I was wearing was digging into my ribs.


    I moved again, and my brand-new, red, four-inch Jimmy Choo peep-toe pumps made a grinding noise against the platform.


    Sig pivoted his head slightly and gave me a disapproving look. Next to him Juan Carlos grumbled something in Spanish. At this rate I was going to have to learn the language if I had any hope of keeping up with him on the insult front. Maybe my live-in boyfriend, Desmond Alvarez, could teach me a few choice phrases.


    I stopped squirming, but Sig kept staring at me.


    ¡°I understand it¡¯s been a difficult adjustment, love, but you must try a little harder to radiate the appropriate authority.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d be a lot more radiant if I had a cushion to sit on,¡± I replied.


    And why did I have to wear a silk blouse and skin-tight skirt when our fearless leader was wearing a pair of black trousers and nothing else? Compared to Sig, Juan Carlos and I looked conspicuously conservative. The former Spanish conquistador on Sig¡¯s left was wearing a neat black Armani suit that made his already dark features appear somehow cloudier.


    Under the scrutiny of Sig¡¯s icy blue stare, I crossed my legs at the ankle and placed my hands in my lap. My grandmere would have keeled over to see me dressed up so ladylike. Even my typically wild-child loose blonde curls were pulled back in a sophisticated French twist.


    Leave it to the Tribunal to make a lady out of a former assassin.


    There was a soft knock on the heavy oak doors to my right, and I tensed. Once upon a time I dreaded coming into this room because it inevitably meant I was in trouble. Now that I was sitting on the other side of the doors, I dreaded those knocks for another reason altogether.


    It meant I wasn¡¯t getting out of here anytime soon.


    Stifling a sigh, I bit my tongue and waited for Sig to permit entry to whoever waited on the other side of the door. Instead he continued to watch me, and when he spoke at last, it was to me and not our visitor.


    ¡°You will be responsible this time.¡±


    I started to protest, but Juan Carlos did it for me. ¡°Surely you cannot be serious.¡±


    ¡°I am never not serious,¡± Sig replied.


    And don¡¯t call me Shirley, I answered mutely but couldn¡¯t hide the smirk.


    ¡°You find this humorous, Miss McQueen?¡± Juan Carlos asked, directing his attention towards me for the first time all night. It was difficult to find humor in anything when he looked at me that way. The furious curl of his mouth was punctuated by the scar which split his upper lip into a permanent snarl. That was nothing compared to the glimmer of abject hatred illuminating his eyes.


    ¡°No, Juan Carlos.¡± I no longer had to refer to him as a Tribunal Leader, because in the eyes of the vampire council we were now of equal power.


    But try getting him to see it that way.


    There was a second knock, this one more tentative. Juan Carlos leaned back with a huff, throwing his hands in the air and refusing to look at either of us.


    ¡°She¡¯s been on the Tribunal for seven months,¡± Sig reminded the vampire at his side. ¡°It¡¯s time she be allowed to express her power accordingly. She cannot fail too badly.¡± He said this last line with a twisted smirk.


    He was testing me.


    Now I understood that up to this point I¡¯d been playing in the shallow end. Splashing around in the kiddy pool. Tonight Sig was going to throw me into the ocean and see if I¡¯d learned how to swim or if the current was going to swallow me whole.


    I gulped.


    ¡°C-come in,¡± I stammered, kicking myself for how miserable I sounded.


    Straightening my posture, I sat tall and fixed a cool, calculating expression on my face. Whatever I was about to do, I wanted to give the impression I knew how to handle it. I needed my best poker face.


    The door swung open, and a young man stepped into the room. All the tension melted out of me because I recognized him and knew perfectly well he wasn¡¯t a vampire. He was human, and he was so nervous the smell of it was wafting out to fill the chamber. I could handle this, since once upon a time it had been me standing where he stood now.


    A thin smile fanned across my lips, and from the corner of my eye I could see Sig watching me rather than looking at our new guest.


    The man was handsome in a beat-up way. His hair was dark enough to be called black and stuck out in every direction as if it were at odds with itself. He had a few days¡¯ worth of stubble covering his cheeks except for a jagged white line on his right cheek where no hair grew to cover an old scar. His nose had once been broken and hadn¡¯t healed properly.


    His eyes were bright blue and focused on my forehead, but his jaw was clenched with the determination of a man who wouldn¡¯t let his fear show.


    I waited for him to greet us in the appropriate manner, as I¡¯d been trained to do when I was the council¡¯s designated bounty hunter. When he didn¡¯t speak, I frowned and cleared my throat pointedly.


    ¡°Good evening, Tribunal Leader Secret,¡± he acknowledged with a terse nod before turning to Juan Carlos. ¡°Good evening, Tribunal Leader Juan Carlos.¡± When he looked at Sig, some of the fierceness faded from him. Sig, my two-thousand-year-old Finnish vampire boss, had an unusual gift for putting others at ease and was using it in spades on our visitor. ¡°Tribunal Leader Sig,¡± he said almost reverently.


    ¡°Welcome, Shane.¡± I nodded so he would know to direct his attention to me.


    Shane Hewitt was the third bounty hunter we¡¯d hired to fill the void left by my promotion. I¡¯d tried to convince Sig¡ªon multiple occasions¡ªI should be allowed to continue my work hunting rogues, but he wouldn¡¯t hear of it. I was a huge liability now, and he needed to keep me protected in order to stop anyone else from trying to take my place at his side on the Tribunal.


    There was only one way to lose this job, and that was to die. The only way to get the job was to kill someone who had it. Career advancement hadn¡¯t been my goal when I¡¯d decapitated the vampire who¡¯d formerly occupied this seat, but if sitting here meant I was still alive, I¡¯d take it.


    The downside was we¡¯d had a lot of difficulty finding someone as adept at hunting rogues as I¡¯d been. Since I was half-vampire myself, I had the benefit of knowing how they operated. No full-blood vampires were willing to take a job killing their brethren, so that left humans.


    And humans had a bad habit of shucking off the mortal coil when a rogue vampire refused to come quietly.


    Shane Hewitt had lasted longer than any of the others, though his nose had been perfect when he¡¯d started the job three months ago. Now he looked like a barroom brawler with a bad attitude. That bad attitude must have led him astray at some point, otherwise he wouldn¡¯t be standing in front of us now.


    I knew a thing or two about the pitfalls of a bad attitude.


    ¡°What brings you before us tonight?¡± I hoped I sounded pretentious enough. I was remembering everything Sig, Juan Carlos and the dearly departed Daria had ever said to me and amping the smarm up a few notches.


    Shane blanched, and his shoes suddenly became the most interesting thing in the room, a sure sign we weren¡¯t going to like what he had to tell us.


    Twenty bucks says unsanctioned kill, I mused. Sig smirked and the timing gave me a chill.


    ¡°Spit it out,¡± I insisted, after the silence had gone beyond dramatic and into awkward. If Juan Carlos could have facepalmed inconspicuously, I think he would have.


    Shane jolted like I¡¯d woken him out of a deep sleep, then crammed his fists into the pockets of his leather jacket. It was still February, so the jacket must have been a statement to make him look tough since it was worn too thin to actually keep him warm.


    ¡°I was issued a warrant to kill a vampire who was posing as a tour operator in Times Square and picking off tourists.¡±


    I knew all about his warrants. I was here when they were issued. He was stalling. I urged him on. ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°Well, I was successful.¡± He gave me a sheepish smile, but when someone refuses to look you in the eyes when they smile at you, the result is a little unnerving.


    There was also a lingering unspoken but at the end of his sentence. I placed one of my hands on each wooden arm of the throne, and the intricate engravings dug into my palms when I squeezed. The way I was glowering at him must have indicated my impatience, because he spoke again, this time more quickly.


    ¡°I killed the vamp in front of a crowd. The wardens got most of it under control, but a few people got away without being wiped.¡±


    Wiped. That was a new one. I guess having your memory augmented by the thrall was similar to having it erased.


    ¡°How many?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°How many?¡± I repeated, shocked by how my voice boomed through the small space. I sounded downright menacing. One point for me.


    ¡°A half dozen, maybe?¡±


    Since Sig was the expert on how to make an assassin feel as puny as a gnat on a horse¡¯s ass, my next response was taken straight out of his greatest hits. I sighed dramatically, burdening the exhalation so much it radiated like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. Like the complications of Shane¡¯s actions would keep me tossing and turning late into my daytime sleep. I groaned a little for added effect.


    ¡°Do you understand what you¡¯ve exposed us to? How your stupidity has endangered us all?¡± I filled my voice with restrained rage, then darted my gaze sideways to see how my colleagues were reacting.


    Sig was watching Shane with a careful eye, reading what he could from the man¡¯s words and judging how truthful he found them to be. The full focus of his attention was a lot to bear; I knew that all too well. Beyond Sig, Juan Carlos had propped his chin onto one of his curled fists, but instead of watching Shane, his eyes remained on me. He looked bored, but there was a fire lit in his pupils that showed something other than repressed hatred.

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    Juan Carlos was proud of me.


    I returned my attention to Shane, swallowing the icky feeling of having done something to please the surly conquistador.


    ¡°What was your payment to be?¡±


    ¡°A thousand.¡±


    ¡°You will forfeit the payment for this kill, and for the next. You are lucky I¡¯m not having your hands ripped off.¡± I said it so matter-of-factly I gave myself a chill.


    Shane opened his mouth, likely to protest, but I waved one freshly manicured hand towards the door and turned away, telling him he was no longer of concern to me. The bounty hunter stomped over to the big double doors, and as he jerked them open, I couldn¡¯t resist a famous Tribunal parting shot.


    ¡°Oh, and, Mr. Hewitt?¡±


    Shane turned, and he must have been mad because he made the mistake of meeting my eyes, something a smart hunter would never do with a vampire unless they wanted to risk being enthralled.


    ¡°Don¡¯t disappoint us again.¡±


    Chapter Two


    The night air was bracing, cold enough that I¡¯d look insane for not wearing a coat, so I was bundled in a chic Burberry plaid trench I¡¯d splurged on after Christmas. There was one decided bonus to being elevated to a Tribunal seat¡ªa black American Express card with my name on it and no pesky questions about what I chose to buy.


    I¡¯d had the card for a few months, and I still tried to avoid using it whenever I could rely on my own money instead. But now that I was no longer hunting rogues, my major source of income had gone up in smoke.


    And the coat was so pretty.


    Trotting down the steps of the council headquarters, a huge building which mirrored Grand Central Terminal in style and scale, I stopped at street level where my escort awaited.


    Holden Chancery could stop my breath in my throat and make any lady with a pulse trip over a few heartbeats. His dark hair was slicked back and teased his nape with its length. The tight set of his chiseled jaw told me he wasn¡¯t in a great mood, and the blazing intensity in his dark brown eyes expressed a deeper emotion he wouldn¡¯t let show on his face. He was pissed.


    ¡°Who peed in your plasma?¡± I asked, standing in front of him, my hands tucked in the pockets of my coat.


    He glowered at me, nostrils flaring with barely concealed rage.


    What the hell?


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he snarled.


    The sentry could be grouchy at the best of times and was prone to more mood swings than a group of sorority sisters whose cycles had synced up. For once, though, I was certain I hadn¡¯t done anything to deserve it.


    He was already a half block away, which made him pretty poor protection. Personally I didn¡¯t think I needed a bodyguard everywhere I went, but I¡¯d been glad to have the option of choosing Holden as my escort instead of any of the warden lackeys Sig could have given the job to.


    When I¡¯d first been appointed to the Tribunal, Sig had several warden guards follow me at a discreet distance. I¡¯d subsequently put the kibosh on that system and now it was only Holden who kept an eye on me. I thought he¡¯d been happy with the arrangement, but maybe I should have asked him.


    ¡°Holden.¡±


    He stopped walking but didn¡¯t turn around or come back. Even though chasing him wasn¡¯t on the top of the list of things I wanted to do tonight, it looked like I didn¡¯t have much choice. I cleared the distance at a jog, admiring how well the Jimmy Choo¡¯s kept up. I¡¯d taken my Choo¡¯s through some pretty rigorous drills, and they never ceased to amaze me.


    For six hundred bucks a pair, I should hope I could jog down a block and kill vampires in them.


    When I was standing in front of him again, it was my turn to look pissed.


    ¡°What the hell is going on?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing. I¡¯m here. Let¡¯s just go.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I stood stock-still and crossed my arms over my chest.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have some sort of date I need to get you to?¡± His tone was cold and sarcastic but not angry. Under other circumstances I would have assumed he was jealous because I was going on a date with Lucas, the area werewolf king, but his voice indicated that wasn¡¯t the problem here.


    ¡°Lucas can wait. What¡¯s your problem?¡± Okay, so it sounded snippier than it could have, but if patience is a skating rink, I tend to stick to thin ice.


    Holden grumbled and wouldn¡¯t face me, which was unusual for him even when he was being a grump. He stared out at the bustle of SoHo, the streets teeming with life in the midst of a cold February night.


    ¡°It¡¯s Rebecca,¡± he said at last, huffing out the name as if it tasted bad on his tongue. Rebecca was a council elder, one of the highest-ranking vampires other than Sig, Juan Carlos and myself.


    She was also Holden¡¯s maker.


    ¡°Okay?¡± I responded, still not sure what his vampire-mother had to do with his surly demeanor.


    ¡°She wants me to demand a favor.¡± He gave me a pointed look, making me wish he¡¯d kept avoiding my gaze. ¡°From you.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t she come to see us? We held open audience today. She could have asked us¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, Secret. She doesn¡¯t want a favor from the Tribunal. She wants one from you personally.¡±


    A knot formed in my throat, and it hurt to swallow. I wish I could say Rebecca was out of line asking me for a personal favor, but the fact was I should have expected this a long time ago. It had been over two years, but I¡¯d killed one of her children, and I was a fool if I thought she¡¯d forget my execution of Charlie Conaway, sanctioned or not.


    My partner, Keaty, had once told me every vampire death is a burden to their society, and the rogues I killed were part of someone¡¯s family. Charlie had been Rebecca¡¯s family, Holden¡¯s family, and now I was going to be held responsible for his death. She couldn¡¯t punish me, or call me out. I outranked her, and unless she wanted to challenge me in a fight to the death, she needed to be diplomatic about her actions.


    So she got to me through Holden.


    ¡°What does she want?¡±


    ¡°It seems her consort is unhappy.¡±


    ¡°And I can correct this how?¡±


    ¡°I believe you know Genevieve Renard.¡±


    The queen of the were-ocelots and entrepreneur extraordinaire. Of course I knew Genevieve Renard. Everyone knew her. I was aware she was involved with Rebecca, but I hadn¡¯t realized it was so serious.


    ¡°What happened to Genevieve?¡± My tone grew serious. More than being acquainted with the ocelot queen, I also liked her immensely, and she was one of the rare exceptions where I believed she felt the same. If there was something I could do to help her, I¡¯d do it without being forced by her vampire girlfriend.


    ¡°Rebecca was less than forthcoming with the details. She asked that I secure your assurances and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I could feel him building up to a big spiel, and I didn¡¯t have the time for it.


    He shot me a disappointed look, scolding me with his eyes for my impatience.


    ¡°What?¡± I replied to his unvoiced disapproval. ¡°You came here to make a request on behalf of your maker. Request granted. Can you stop being such a grumpy bugger now?¡±


    ¡°Oh, Secret.¡± He hefted a sigh.


    ¡°Tell Rebecca I¡¯ll help Genevieve, and I¡¯ll do it without any demand of payment. If I can help her consort, we¡¯re even. Understood?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t speak for her, but I suspect that¡¯s the arrangement she had in mind.¡±


    I puffed up, grinning. Man, I was getting pretty good at this vampire political stuff. First, I¡¯d cut our hunter down a few pegs, and now I was bartering over the redress cost of a vampire¡¯s life. My grin faded, and the knot in my throat doubled in size.


    God. Who was I becoming?


    Holden seemed to notice the change in my demeanor because he forced a smile and put an arm around my shoulder, pulling me in for a hug that felt awkward, especially when he patted me on the back twice, two hard thumps.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. It¡¯s not like you¡¯re selling your soul,¡± he crooned, as if he¡¯d read my mind. ¡°You¡¯ll help the cat queen. It will be like one of your old cases.¡±


    Yeah, Keaty was famous for being a fan of pro-bono cases that put us under the thumb of a vampire elder.


    I sighed. What was done was done. I¡¯d agreed to take on Genevieve¡¯s case, and I would help her. The implications could be dealt with later. For now I would file the whole thing under helping a friend in need so I could think about it without getting dizzy.


    This time it was my turn to say, ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    A wave of bodies surged forward through the main doors of Madison Square Garden, and I was caught up in the swell. I wasn¡¯t a fan of crowds at the best of times, so Lucas had to know I was making an effort when I agreed to meet him here to see a Rangers game.


    I¡¯d grown up in Canada, so a love for hockey was as second nature as breathing, but I liked to watch it from the safety of my living room, or on the TV at a downtrodden sports bar. The only reason I¡¯d agreed to come was that it was a late-night charity fundraiser game, and I hadn¡¯t expected it to be busy. Turns out I know nothing about crowd mentality when it comes to hockey. This many people all crushed together, their adrenaline pumping, their pulses twitching with the vigor of their collective excitement¡­


    My gums ached, and my breath hitched.


    Stupid wolf king and his bright ideas. We¡¯d be lucky if I got to the second period without singling out the old and the weak. I was already scanning the crowd for easy targets.


    I didn¡¯t feed on humans. It was one of those rules I had etched in stone, a line in the sand I would never step over. My blood came from donor bags and was stored safely in my fridge at home. But just because I didn¡¯t allow myself to feed on people didn¡¯t mean the urge wasn¡¯t there. I was half-vampire, and the siren song of blood could sometimes crash into me with a demanding frenzy, like a heroin junkie aching for one more fix.


    If I didn¡¯t get hold of myself, I was going to be in trouble. I could feel my sharp canines throbbing against my gums, begging for release, and I had no doubt my pupils were swelling to take over my brown irises.

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    It wasn¡¯t like I hadn¡¯t thought ahead. I¡¯d eaten before leaving the council headquarters, indulging in the small blood supply I¡¯d insisted they keep there for me when I¡¯d realized they expected me to feed on living donors like they did. But you wouldn¡¯t know I¡¯d taken proactive measures now. The din of Madison Square Garden was threatening to turn me into the monster I was capable of being.


    A shudder rippled through me as the flavor of cinnamon filled my mouth. My lupine energy awoke like a sleeping dragon and expanded outward until my whole body vibrated with the blistering heat of it. It quieted the vampire urges.


    I hadn¡¯t realized how tense I was until my inner wolf curbed the out-of-control-vampire part of me. Usually it was the cool, collected vampire who kept my wolf on a leash, but this time my lycanthrope nature had been called out in the nick of time. And she hadn¡¯t woken up because of me.


    She was awake because of the heady taste in my mouth telling me the wolf king was nearby.


    He might never know how close to the edge I¡¯d been, but he¡¯d pulled me back just in time. My heart leapt. I didn¡¯t love Lucas the way I loved Desmond, but it didn¡¯t mean I felt nothing for him.


    I spun on my heels, scanning the crowd for Lucas. Under normal circumstances he wouldn¡¯t be difficult to spot. Tall, blond and handsome, he drew attention wherever we went. But with this many people around, he¡¯d be playing it cool, toning down his larger-than-life aura the best he could. Being a media-shy billionaire meant he had learned how to blend, even though he was born to stand out.


    The Red Sox ball cap gave him away.


    God love my werewolf boyfriends, but the one thing they couldn¡¯t agree on was baseball. They had the same taste in movies, music, food and obviously women, but they turned into bitter rivals when the topic of the MLB came up. Desmond was New York proud to the core and swore he bled Yankee blue. Lucas was such a big Boston fan he¡¯d actually purchased the franchise. They could share a girlfriend, but they would come to blows over the World Series. Go figure.


    Lucas sidled up to me, and though my heels gave me a slight advantage, I still needed to look up to see his smile. Funny how his silly grin could light a spark inside me, even when I was worried I might start biting people any second. The reaction I had to Lucas was akin to ice cream melting on a piece of hot apple pie. Sticky-sweet and instantly comforting.


    He stooped and gave me a chaste kiss on the lips, placing both his big hands on the small of my back, sending a wave of warmth through my lower body. I grazed his chin with my nose, then kissed the bow in his lower lip as the last of my anxiety shivered out of me. It was no secret how ecstatic I¡¯d been when he shaved off his beard a few months earlier. His stubbled chin was as much facial hair as I wanted to deal with when we got to smooching.


    ¡°Hi,¡± he whispered, tugging at my fancy hairdo. ¡°You¡¯re a little dressed up for hockey.¡±


    I twisted my mouth into a sly smile. ¡°Yeah, sorry. I¡¯m meeting my billionaire boyfriend here. You¡¯d better not let him see you flirting with me. He¡¯s real mean.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah? Big, brawny, jealous type?¡± He pulled me closer. The crowd had started to thin as people moved into the arena to find their seats.


    ¡°You know it.¡± I took one of his hands in mine and stepped out of his embrace. Without letting go of my grip, he spun me so his arm was looped around my shoulder and we were still holding hands.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get upstairs.¡± His tone was more serious than before, but there was no edge of lust to the words. He wanted to talk business, not go at it in his private box. My assessment was confirmed when he added, ¡°Something¡¯s happened, and we need to talk about it before the whole pack finds out.¡±


    Great. As far as date nights with Lucas went, we were right on schedule. A little sweet talk, followed with a heavy dose of serious business.


    Chapter Three


    In hindsight, wearing red to a Rangers game when they were playing the Jersey Devils was not my wisest fashion decision ever. The dirty looks I got on our way to the boxes, coupled with clever one-liners like, ¡°Stupid she-Devil¡± made me wonder at the mob potential of a crowd of hockey fans. Thankfully we didn¡¯t have to share the box with anyone.


    We took our seats close to the front with all the pretense of actually watching the game. Now that we were away from all the people, part of me really wanted to relive the thrill of watching night pond hockey games in Elmwood like I¡¯d been able to as a kid, but Lucas had other plans in mind. He stroked his chin, a habit he¡¯d picked up when he¡¯d had a beard that had stuck with him when the hair was gone.


    ¡°It must be bad if you¡¯re stroking the invisible beard.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like a ninth-grade euphemism for masturbation.¡± He tried to smile, but it came out half-broken and grim.


    ¡°Out with it, then. Rip the Band-Aid off.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve got trouble.¡±


    ¡°You say that like it¡¯s something unusual. Hello, King of the Obvious, we always have trouble.¡± I tried to give my words a joking quality, but his frown told me I¡¯d struck a nerve. I was incredibly skilled at that.


    ¡°One of the Alphas in the southwest corner of my territory is turning traitor. He¡¯s being courted by another king and is going to try to take the region with him.¡±


    ¡°A hostile takeover?¡±


    ¡°More or less.¡±


    ¡°Do we know which king?¡± Please say west, please say west, please say west.


    ¡°No one is owning up to it yet, but I have my suspicions.¡±


    ¡°You think it¡¯s my uncle, don¡¯t you?¡±


    The thin line of his mouth twitched, but Lucas said nothing and stared ahead at the hockey game. The players had barely been on the ice five minutes, but already someone was punching the hell out of a forward from the Devils.


    Lucas neither confirmed nor denied, but asked, ¡°What do you know about him?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never even met the man.¡±


    Lucas gave me a serious look, the one that meant I wasn¡¯t with my boyfriend anymore. Now I was Pack Protector and he was King. As he was fond of telling me, this wasn¡¯t a time to be glib.


    ¡°Callum McQueen. Son of Elmore and Vivienne McQueen. Brother of Mercy and Savannah. Currently unmarried with no heir apparent. In his late thirties, now, I believe. From what Grandmere told me, he was fifteen when she left, so he¡¯d be thirty-seven or thirty-eight.¡±


    ¡°What else?¡±


    I felt like asking, Do you see a fucking dossier in front of me? But I managed to refrain.


    ¡°Elmore chose him as the successor for his throne instead of his two older sisters. I don¡¯t know how Savannah felt about it, but I have a good idea about Mercy¡¯s reaction.¡±


    Lucas kept staring at me.


    ¡°What?¡± I asked finally. ¡°Do you want me to call Grandmere and grill her for information on her youngest? As far as I know she hasn¡¯t spoken to Callum in twenty years.¡±


    ¡°Do you think he¡¯s bitter about that?¡±


    ¡°You mean do I think he blames me for her leaving. That¡¯s what you¡¯re thinking, so just say it.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Do you think Callum harbors a grudge against you?¡±


    ¡°Probably. It seems to be a popular hobby for the McQueens.¡±


    ¡°Secret¡­¡±


    ¡°I know. Glib. Gotcha.¡±


    ¡°Do you think his resentment is enough to motivate him to move on my territory?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    My uncle was a relatively young king, as was Lucas. Both had inherited the heavy burden of the crown from their fathers before them, and all I saw were similarities. Maybe Lucas should be asking himself if he¡¯d be willing to move on another king¡¯s territory if the opportunity presented itself, rather than trying to view me as the weak link in his chain.


    ¡°Morgan thinks we should set up a meeting between you and Callum.¡±


    ¡°Oh she does, does she?¡±


    Morgan Scott, Lucas¡¯s new enforcer, had risen in the pack ranks after Desmond became the Queen¡¯s Guard and moved in with me. Lucas needed someone to pick up the slack of Desmond¡¯s former responsibilities, and Morgan was the next strongest wolf in his pack. Now she ranked just below Desmond and me, and she loved to remind me it was only a short climb to the top if I should fall out of favor.


    Sometimes I think she was willing to give a little extra push.


    It wasn¡¯t that Morgan hated me. I knew enough people who genuinely loathed me to be able to tell the difference. She was motivated, she lusted for power, and she saw me as an outside force blocking her path. I respected her drive, but I wasn¡¯t about to give up Lucas so she could be queen instead.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s a good idea,¡± Lucas said.


    ¡°And if Callum really does harbor a grudge, aren¡¯t we giving him a golden opportunity to get rid of me?¡±


    The crowd erupted into an ear-splitting cheer as the Rangers scored a goal.


    ¡°If he kills you at an official summit, it¡¯s a capital offense. All the kingdoms would come down on him in force.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯d still be dead.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re pretty hard to kill,¡± he reminded me.


    I sighed. ¡°Where is the territory?¡±


    ¡°Nebraska.¡±


    ¡°Oh God. Let him have it.¡±


    Lucas leaned back and stared at the ceiling, probably asking himself for the millionth time how he got stuck with me. ¡°We need to send someone out there to try and stabilize the region. If that fails, we have to confirm who the Alpha is in cahoots with.¡± He ignored me when I snickered at the word cahoots, point one for Lucas. ¡°Only if it turns out a McQueen agent is responsible for the unrest will I consider calling a summit. But, Secret, I need us to be a united front on this.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been nothing but supportive of the pack,¡± I said defensively.


    ¡°But you aren¡¯t really a part of the pack.¡±


    This had been a point of contention between us for months. I¡¯d been actively involved in pack politics and stood by his side at all pack meetings. I knew every single member of the Manhattan region pack and could name every Alpha in Lucas¡¯s territory. So I didn¡¯t run with them under the full moon? Was that really the be-all end-all?

 Page 4

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what more you want from me.¡±


    He scrubbed his hands over his face, then cupped my knee under his palm. ¡°Forget it. Forget I said anything.¡±


    Since being naturally argumentative was one of my uglier character traits, a wash of bile-sharpened words stung the back of my throat, but I managed to swallow them down. Just this once I would let him get away with saying something stupid and hurtful. He¡¯d saved me from myself earlier, and I¡¯d let him have this one.


    The Rangers trampled the Devils seven-to-two, and Lucas dropped me off at my apartment with a promise to make up for our disastrous date by cooking me dinner the next night. It would have to be a hell of a meal, considering I didn¡¯t eat human food for the most part, and he¡¯d managed to make me feel about as big as a wood tick.


    Maybe he¡¯d let me bite him. That might help me feel better.


    Where the hell did that thought come from? I don¡¯t want to bite my boyfriend.


    But I did. I couldn¡¯t explain it, but the second Lucas was out of sight I was fantasizing about sinking my fangs into the trembling pulse of his throat and ripping the hot artery open.


    I shuddered, and it was only half from repulsion.


    Chapter Four


    The ceiling in Francis Keats¡¯s office was fascinating.


    The dark red paint looked like blood, and it was also a great place to look when I didn¡¯t want to meet the eyes of the private detective of all things paranormal who was sitting across the desk from me.


    ¡°Answer the question, Secret.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, I forgot what it was.¡±


    ¡°No, you didn¡¯t.¡±


    I buried my bare toes in the new plush rug under my chair, and my hands tightened on the leather armrests. Keaty hated to repeat himself almost as much as he hated to make guesses.


    ¡°Okay, yes. I¡¯m having some control issues.¡±


    ¡°Define some.¡±


    ¡°Um¡­ I almost lost it at Madison Square Garden last night. Only Lucas showing up kept me from getting all fangy.¡± I held my index fingers up to my mouth to mimic fangs, but I probably looked more like a pathetic, demented walrus.


    Keaty didn¡¯t look amused.


    ¡°This is serious, Secret,¡± he told me, as if his face hadn¡¯t said as much already.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like I bit anyone.¡±


    ¡°But you wanted to.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but I mean, I want to kill lots of people sometimes. It doesn¡¯t mean I do it.¡±


    His frown deepened, which I hadn¡¯t thought was possible. Keaty probably came out of the womb scowling. ¡°There¡¯s a big difference between wanting to hypothetically dismember a cabbie who almost runs you over, and trying to eat the still-beating hearts out of fifteen thousand hockey fans.¡±


    I pshawed. ¡°There¡¯s no way I¡¯d have gotten them all.¡±


    ¡°No, certainly someone would have killed you before then.¡±


    Silence filled the space between us. He¡¯d successfully made his point.


    ¡°You think it¡¯s because of the Tribunal, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Is that what you think?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    He balled his fists together and leaned forward on his desk. ¡°Have you discussed this with Sig?¡±


    ¡°Not yet.¡± I bit my lower lip. ¡°I¡¯m worried if I do, he¡¯ll throw a ¡®yay, you¡¯re a vampire¡¯ party for me. I¡¯m not quite ready to accept that that¡¯s what¡¯s happening. In the meantime I want to talk to Calliope, see if she knows what it means. But I have an appointment with Genevieve Renard first.¡±


    Keaty raised both brows. ¡°What business do you have with Ms. Renard?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m doing it as a favor to Holden¡¯s maker because of that nasty subway incident. I still don¡¯t know what Genevieve wants.¡±


    His jaw strained under the pressure of keeping his mouth shut.


    ¡°I know, Keaty. Never owe favors to vampires. Just like you never thank a fairy, and you always get cash upfront. Trust me, I remember the rules, but this is different.¡±


    ¡°How? How is it different?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. It just is.¡±


    There was a tentative knock at the door, and Nolan poked his head in. His chocolate-brown eyes were wide, and a flush brightened his cinnamon-colored cheeks. ¡°There¡¯s a Genevieve ¡®ere to see Secret?¡± He phrased it like a question.


    ¡°Send her in,¡± Keaty and I said in unison.


    Nolan held the door open, and when Genevieve walked in, I could have sworn the world went black and white and Keaty and I were transported into an old film noir. The ocelot queen was a knockout, no doubt, and that was high praise coming from me since I was personal friends with Marilyn Monroe.


    She was wearing a classic Chanel day suit in a teal-blue blend that made her red hair look like it was ablaze and deepened the purple hue of her eyes. Her makeup was impeccable, but I could tell she¡¯d been crying by the mascara smudges under her lashes. She¡¯d pulled her hair up into a bun, and that, coupled with the five-inch Manolos she wore, made her look six or seven inches taller than she really was.


    No matter her height, Genevieve always carried herself with a poise I could never hope to imitate. She was a real queen. I was a pretender to the throne.


    ¡°Secret,¡± she said, her voice a smoky purr, ¡°thank you so much for seeing me on such short notice.¡±


    I stood and shook her hand and indicated the chair next to me. ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind if Mr. Keats sits in on our meeting. He¡¯s my partner, and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hello, Francis,¡± Genevieve said.


    I stiffened, waiting for him to correct her, but instead he squeezed her hand and said, ¡°Genny, it¡¯s a pleasure as always.¡± He dusted a kiss on her knuckles before sitting back down.


    When Genevieve took her seat, she crossed her ankles and removed a handkerchief from her clutch, then heaved a fluttering sigh. She played the part of a noir femme fatale flawlessly.


    ¡°It¡¯s my niece Lucy.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s happened?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s supposed to be under my supervision here while she goes to Columbia for her undergrad, but I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve been a little lax. She¡¯s a young woman, and I didn¡¯t want to get in the way of her having a proper college experience, you understand?¡± Genevieve blotted under her eyes. ¡°She checks in by phone every other day, but for the last few weeks she¡¯s only called once, maybe twice. She hasn¡¯t called at all this week, and when I tried her dorm, her roommate says she hasn¡¯t seen Lucy in days.¡±


    Keaty was instantly on point. ¡°Does she have a boyfriend?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if there was anyone special,¡± Genevieve admitted.


    ¡°We¡¯ll look into it. If she was seeing someone, there¡¯s a chance she might have run away for an impromptu vacation.¡± I explained the rationale behind Keaty¡¯s question. ¡°You know how flighty girls in love can be.¡±


    The ocelot queen gave me a halfhearted smile. ¡°There¡¯s more.¡±


    I nodded, inviting her to continue.


    ¡°You understand how few of my kind there are, yes?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve mentioned it. About a dozen in the country, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Well I recently received an offer of marriage from the jaguar king.¡±


    Why did that sound like a bad B-side from The Doors?


    ¡°I take it I¡¯m not about to offer you my heartfelt congratulations?¡± I asked.


    Genevieve snorted. ¡°Certainly not. While I know perfectly well if and when I marry it will be for political protection and not love, there is no offer of power strong enough for me to willingly share my bed with Gregory Hamilton. He¡¯s a revolting misogynist and would see all the females of my race pawned off to men equally repugnant. No, as a queen, I would never let that fate befall my people.¡±


    Her nobility and devotion to her cats made me wonder if Lucas didn¡¯t have a point when he said I wasn¡¯t really part of the pack. Would I sacrifice love for the better good of the pack like Genevieve said she would someday do? She loved Rebecca, but she would marry a cat king to keep her ocelots safe. In many ways she was twice the woman I was.


    ¡°How did Gregory take your rejection of his proposal?¡± Keaty asked.


    ¡°How does any man take rejection, Francis?¡± She gave him a meaningful look.


    Keaty and I were both quiet, waiting for Genevieve to continue. When she only stared at the window behind Keaty¡¯s desk, I urged her on. ¡°Do you think Gregory has something to do with Lucy¡¯s¡­¡± I was hesitant to say disappearance. In all likelihood, Genevieve¡¯s niece had run off with a boy her aunt didn¡¯t know about. But Genevieve seemed certain that sinister jaguar forces were afoot, and what kind of investigators would we be if we didn¡¯t listen to her theory? So I amended my statement and said, ¡°¡­Lucy¡¯s absence?¡±


    Genevieve turned her head towards me, her eyes flashing with sudden ferocity. ¡°If he has harmed so much as one hair on her head, I will disembowel him with my bare hands and make a hat out of his organs.¡±


    That was what turned Keaty¡¯s permanent frown into a smirk.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Genny.¡± He held his hand out palm up on the desk, and she took the offering. All of the vengeful fervor seeped out of her and left her limp and sad, clutching Keaty¡¯s hand like it was an anchor keeping her from drifting out to sea. ¡°We¡¯ll find her.¡±


    Easy for him to say. He wasn¡¯t the one in the debt of a vampire elder.


    ¡°We¡¯ll need some information from you about Lucy,¡± I told her. ¡°Her class schedule, any places you know she hangs out, names of her friends. I have a friend on the force. I¡¯ll ask her if¡­well, I¡¯ll ask her if she knows anything that might be helpful.¡±


    Genevieve gave a tight nod. Judging by the tense set of her features and the pain glazing her eyes, she wasn¡¯t thinking about what she¡¯d do when she saw Lucy alive again. No, the ocelot queen was thinking about her future hobby of intestinal millinery.


    Chapter Five

 Page 5

    After Genevieve left, Keaty and I agreed the best course of action was to look into the jaguar king first before we started scouring the city for Lucy Renard. If Genevieve believed the king had a motive for kidnapping the girl, there was a solid chance he¡¯d done it. When it came to crimes of jealousy, passion and rejection, the most obvious explanation was usually the right one.


    Gregory Hamilton wasn¡¯t a hard man to find.


    Unlike Lucas, who tried to keep a low profile in spite of his riches, Gregory appeared to be the kind of man who liked to flaunt his wealth and power. A few phone calls to some friends in low places was all it took to find out he spent most of his evenings at a fae-run bar in the East Village called Caligula.


    There was no way I was going to meet a potential kidnapper, who no doubt had an entourage of bodyguards, without a little protection of my own. I¡¯d made the mistake of underestimating my opponents one too many times in the past. Just because Gregory was a shifter didn¡¯t mean he was any less of a threat to me than a rogue vampire.


    I¡¯d seen what could happen when shifters went toe-to-toe, and it wasn¡¯t pretty.


    I already had my gun on me, but this wouldn¡¯t be a regular crowd. In a fae-operated bar, patronized by shifter royalty, I was willing to bet my name preceded me. I also knew perfectly well that while a gun was ample protection, it lacked a certain wow factor.


    I wanted Gregory Hamilton to know I meant business.


    Stopping at my apartment before heading south, I grabbed the one weapon I had that was light enough to carry on a long walk but impressive enough to express my seriousness. The katana had been a purchase of homicidal necessity a few years back, and ever since it had become one of my favorite pieces. Guns were all well and good, but a big shiny sword made me look extra kick-ass.


    Of course, the bouncer at Caligula only saw it as a threat.


    He was a beefy wall of fae with arms as wide around as my waist and a face that had never cracked a smile.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± he grumbled.


    ¡°I¡¯m here to speak to Gregory Hamilton.¡±


    ¡°Sure you are. What¡¯s that you¡¯ve got?¡±


    The katana was slung over my back. Once upon a time I¡¯d cleverly disguised it by using a bike messenger¡¯s travel tube. Sadly, that tube was long gone, and I¡¯d had to buy a real sling for the sword, making it pretty damned apparent what I was carrying.


    No sense in pretending. ¡°It¡¯s a sword.¡±


    The guard quirked his eyebrow. ¡°And why do you need a sword to talk to Mr. Hamilton?¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    That seemed to stump him. I guess most would-be assassins were a lot stealthier about bringing weapons in. ¡°Uhhh.¡±


    ¡°Look, it¡¯s not silver. I¡¯m not here to hurt him. You tell him I work for Genevieve Renard and I want to talk to him, that¡¯s all.¡± I smiled, careful not to flash too much teeth. I didn¡¯t want to come across as threatening, and I was sure this fae knew the signs of shifter aggression.


    He also didn¡¯t quite know what to make of me.


    ¡°If you just want to talk, why do you need a sword?¡±


    ¡°This is New York, Butch. A girl can never be too careful.¡±


    ¡°Leave the sword with me, and I¡¯ll let you in.¡± He held out his enormous hand, as if I¡¯d actually be stupid enough to simply give him my weapon. He was just as stupid as he looked.


    Instead of passing him the sword, I put my hand in his, flattening my palm against his rough skin. He jerked with surprise but didn¡¯t pull away.


    ¡°Look at me,¡± I instructed.


    I hadn¡¯t tried to enthrall someone since I¡¯d leveled up in the Tribunal. Prior to that, I¡¯d only been able to do it once before¡ªto Nolan¡ªand I wasn¡¯t sure it would work again. But I was more powerful now, and my new power had to mean something. Trying my luck with a fae was a big risk, since some of them could fend off the thrall. In spite of appearances, though, I didn¡¯t think Butch was a strong enough fae to repel being enthralled.


    As anticipated, he met my eyes willingly, and a shiver of excitement rocketed through me. I needed to keep my cool long enough to gain access to the club.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been expecting me,¡± I told him.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been expecting you,¡± Butch repeated mechanically. I didn¡¯t have the finesse with the thrall like Holden did. My victim sounded robotic. With Holden you¡¯d never know he was behind the wheel, his control was just that seamless.


    ¡°I pose no threat to anyone here.¡±


    His eyes were glassy, but he nodded his agreement.


    Butch grunted something I didn¡¯t understand and disappeared through the club¡¯s entrance. A few minutes later he returned with an identical guard by his side.


    ¡°Mr. Hamilton says he¡¯ll see you.¡±


    ¡°Well that¡¯s mighty kind of him.¡±


    He made a growling sound, and I figured it was in my best interest to stop pushing my luck. That he was still under the thrall after being separated from me was enough of a miracle. I didn¡¯t want to lose the advantage now. Butch jerked his head, indicating I should follow him, then made his way back into the bar, and I stayed hot on his trail, not willing to miss my window of opportunity.


    Usually it was a lot easier to cross a packed dance floor when a huge man was parting the human seas for you. Unfortunately, it seemed I¡¯d used up my luck getting past the front door. We were halfway to the VIP section when a bony hand latched onto my wrist, yanking me away from Butch, who continued walking, oblivious to my absence.


    ¡°What the¡ª?¡±


    I wrenched my arm free and spun around to face my assailant, but my words froze in my mouth. My heartbeat tripped, and I wanted to look away, but found myself unable to avert my gaze.


    The fae woman was astonishing to behold. She had alabaster skin and snow-white hair that glimmered in the low light, radiating as if lit from within. Her eyes were wide and too round to be mistaken for human, and her bow-shaped lips curved down in a grimace. As I continued to stare at her I could have sworn the shape of wings appeared at her back.


    I blinked, and the wings vanished.


    ¡°Where did you get that?¡± she demanded, her gaze looking beyond me, fixed on the weapon at my back.


    Touching the sword to confirm it hadn¡¯t been replaced with something more sinister, it was my turn to look concerned. ¡°I bought it.¡±


    ¡°Impossible. No one would part with that for useless human coin. I will ask you again, where did you get it?¡±


    Now she was irritating me. ¡°I bought it.¡±


    Moving faster than I was prepared for, she skirted around me and grabbed the sword. I was about to retaliate, when she let out a pained shriek and released the weapon, staring at her hands. I stepped backwards in case she planned to make another grab for it.


    ¡°What have you done?¡± she snarled.


    I don¡¯t care how beautiful some fae can be. When they¡¯re angry, they are singlehandedly the scariest creatures on this plane or any other. Her shrill voice made goose bumps explode over my arms. I shuddered.


    ¡°You¡¯ve soiled it,¡± she said.


    ¡°It¡¯s a sword. If I didn¡¯t get it a little dirty now and then, I wouldn¡¯t be using it right.¡±


    A tall, lean man with identical coloring to the wee fae woman appeared from the crowd and stood next to her, then told me, ¡°You should go. Now.¡±


    ¡°What the hell is she talking about?¡±


    He stared at the sword, placing a comforting arm around the woman¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You received a precious gift,¡± he said with a sigh, ¡°and you have besmirched it.¡±


    God, the fae were all whack jobs. I¡¯d bought the sword from a tourist shop in Koreatown. There was nothing special about it.


    Butch forced his way through the crowd and stood between the two fae and myself, blocking them from my view.


    ¡°This way,¡± he grumbled. We angled through the crowd on the dance floor, and when I looked over my shoulder to get a last look at the pair of fae, they had vanished. Frigging creepy.


    I was led to a VIP room separated from the main floor by a crystal-beaded curtain. The lights in the lounge were darker than those of the club, which seemed impossible since the main dance floor was lit only by thin ropes of blue neon and a disco ball.


    All the light I had to see by in here was a tea light in a purple glass vase. It cast an eerie and monstrous glow on the otherwise handsome face of one Gregory Hamilton. Figuring out who the big man in the room was didn¡¯t take a genius. There were two chesty brunettes pressed against him, one writhing on his lap in a slow, sensuous lap dance while the other sipped from a martini glass before leaning in to kiss him and letting the alcohol dribble from her mouth into his.


    Yeesh.


    ¡°Genevieve sent you?¡± he asked after swallowing the girl¡¯s backwash.


    ¡°In a manner of speaking.¡±


    In another time and place, I probably could have found the jaguar king attractive. He had a lean build and cunning green eyes that seemed to glow independently of the poor light in the room. The feline aspects that had translated into his human form did not give him the same feminine quality as they did Genevieve. I wasn¡¯t sure why I assumed all the cats would be girly, but Gregory was about as womanly as a Siberian tiger with its teeth bared.


    This kitty had claws.


    He also looked none too pleased by my evasive answer. Shoving the girl off his lap and shooing the other away, he crossed his ankle over his knee and lit a cigarette with the clipped precision of a long-time smoker.


    A cloud of purple-hued smoke floated across the room and chased the two half-naked girls out through the curtain.


    ¡°And what does her majesty have to say to me?¡± He exhaled another breath, and this one soared right up my nostrils. I wrinkled my nose and choked back the urge to cough.


    ¡°Where¡¯s the girl?¡± I demanded, skipping the foreplay and getting right to the hot and heavy.


    ¡°What girl?¡± he asked, his lips curling in a sly smile. ¡°I have so many.¡±


    A chuckle that was more cruel than good-humored escaped my mouth. ¡°I bet. One night is probably more than enough for even the dumbest bedwarmer to figure out you¡¯re a scumbag.¡±

 Page 6

    Gregory sat forward, his forearms braced on his knees. His eyes shone like flat mirrors, the way a house cat¡¯s would in the dark. ¡°Who do you think you¡¯re talking to?¡±


    ¡°A king desperate enough to find a queen that he¡¯ll resort to kidnapping.¡±


    He pinched his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger and took a deep drag before settling back into the cushions of the couch. ¡°I¡¯m not desperate. She¡¯s a fool. I could protect her people, what few there are left, and all she¡¯d have to do is open her legs and give me an heir.¡±


    ¡°Was that your pitch? Because as proposals go, it could use some work.¡±


    He snarled at me, and the sound was more cat than human. ¡°What do you know about pack structures, girl?¡±


    ¡°More than I care to. Which is why I can tell you this. I am pack protector and king¡¯s consort to the Eastern wolf pack,¡± I said. Gregory¡¯s eyes widened, and the cigarette slipped from his fingers, singeing his black dress pants before he could swat it away. ¡°So when I say I can rain a hellfire like no other on you and your little pack if you¡¯ve done something to Lucy Renard, you know I¡¯m not talking out my ass.¡±


    ¡°I-I didn¡¯t know,¡± he stammered.


    ¡°Now you do. So I¡¯ll ask you again. Where is Lucy?¡±


    He jerked his head from side to side. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡±


    ¡°Tell me the truth.¡± My hand grasped the handle of my katana, and Gregory clambered to his feet.


    ¡°I swear to God, I have nothing to do with it.¡±


    Narrowing my eyes at him, I gave him a withering glare, and after a tense pause I released the weapon. ¡°If I find out you¡¯ve lied to me, Gregory¡­¡± I let the threat hang open-ended, and he nodded his understanding.


    Sometimes the best threats are only heard in the imaginations of terrified men.


    Chapter Six


    I still had a few hours to kill before my dinner with Lucas, but I wanted to see Calliope before I met the werewolf king. In spite of the rush I¡¯d gotten from besting Gregory without ever having to draw a weapon, I was still feeling queasy about what had happened the previous night. Surely the Oracle would be able to shed some light on the creepy development that had me craving snacks with a pulse. Or, at the very least, she¡¯d be able to give me some bagged blood so I didn¡¯t risk running out at an inopportune moment.


    But¡ªpathetic as it was¡ªI wasn¡¯t quite ready to hear her verdict.


    If I was becoming more of a vampire because I was now one of the Tribunal, I wasn¡¯t sure how I would deal with that news. The extra power that came with the position was awesome, but what if it was at the cost of my already tenuous hold on humanity?


    It wasn¡¯t like I could do anything about it. Ascending to Tribunal leader was a one-way trip. Unless I let another vampire off me in a fight, I was going to be sitting on a throne for the rest of my days, no matter how badly it chafed my ass.


    My visit to Caligula had brought up another uncomfortable question I wanted an answer to. The two white-haired fae had said there was something wrong with my sword. I figured they were crazy, but at the same time I wanted to know for sure. Instead of going to Calliope¡¯s, I found myself standing in front of a familiar storefront in Koreatown.


    A plush Hello Kitty toy winked at me from the store window.


    ¡°Well, what do you know?¡± I gaped at the squat building, which glowed faintly red in the gaudy lights from the restaurant across the street.


    It had been years since my first and only visit inside, but nothing had changed in all that time. This was the very place I¡¯d bought the sword I now carried. A strange tingling sensation fanned down my back and urged me forward.


    Fueled by a curiosity that almost burned me from the inside, I pushed the door open, and the bell jingled a familiar greeting. The store was thick with the smell of incense, but underneath it was a stench I remembered like the clinging remnants of a bad dream.


    ¡°Hello?¡± I called out.


    Heavy footfalls thumped from the back of the store, and once again the feeling of an invisible hand pushed me farther into the store. If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d say the sword itself was ushering me forward.


    When the short, round Korean man stepped through the curtains at the back of the room, he blinked his oil-black eyes at me a few times, then his lips parted in a beaming, mostly toothless grin.


    The smell of decay was more potent now that he was in the same room as me. I hadn¡¯t gotten confirmation the last time we met, but based on the smell and his strong silent demeanor, I was betting he was an ogre.


    ¡°Do you remember me?¡± I asked, inching forward until I was standing across from him with a glass case filled with weapons between us.


    He nodded and pointed excitedly to the sword slung over my shoulders. I could no longer ignore that the simmering tingle on my spine was definitely originating from the blade itself. Though I¡¯d refused to let any of the fae at the club take my sword, I didn¡¯t feel the need to deny his request. The sword had once been his, after all. I slipped the sheath over my head and placed it in his open palms.


    As soon as the sword was out of my hands the tingling stopped, as if an electric current had been running through me and the moment I let go of the wire, I stopped being shocked.


    Weird didn¡¯t even start to cover it.


    His toothless grin widened, and he bobbed his head excitedly. ¡°You bonded,¡± he said. His voice was soft and in glaring opposition to what I imagined an ogre should sound like.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°You. The sword. You have spilled much blood with it.¡± Up and down went his head like a robin digging for worms after rain. ¡°It sings your name now.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I wished someone was hearing this with me. Maybe it would make more sense to them.


    ¡°You brought it back to life.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a sword.¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°So much more.¡± He caressed the weapon with time-worn hands, the skin tissue-paper thin but his fingers still deft and strong. ¡°So much more.¡±


    I reached out for the blade, but when I touched it the whole katana crackled with energy. The ogre dropped it on the glass counter, and we both took a step back. His eyes were wide as he looked from the weapon to me. My own fingers were trembling from the shock.


    ¡°What was that?¡±


    The ogre narrowed his black eyes at me. ¡°Has the blood of the dead touched the blade?¡±


    ¡°Uh, yeah. Vampire assassin.¡± I pointed at myself.


    ¡°You have tainted fae metal with the blood of the dead?¡±


    ¡°Well the sword didn¡¯t exactly come with an instruction manual.¡±


    ¡°Foolish girl.¡±


    I grabbed the sword, but with only me touching it there was no reaction this time. ¡°What happens to it now that it¡¯s touched undead blood?¡± Hugging the weapon to my chest, I watched his reaction and didn¡¯t like the darkness that bloomed across his features. ¡°Is it bad?¡± Judging by how the two fae at the bar had reacted, and the look the ogre was giving me now, I was willing to bed bad didn¡¯t start to cover it.


    ¡°You have taken something light and fed it with darkness.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°Very unpredictable.¡±


    ¡°Dangerous unpredictable?¡±


    The ogre took a step back from the counter and turned away. ¡°Always danger in darkness, girl.¡±


    Between the white-haired fae at the club, and the ogre¡¯s dark pronouncement, I didn¡¯t exactly feel like hauling the katana around the city with me for the rest of the night. If the fae of New York were all up in arms over my favorite weapon, it was probably for the best I just let the sword sit this one out.


    After dropping the sword at home, I still wasn¡¯t ready to face Calliope. The excitement of the evening was thrumming through me, and I needed to clear my head before I let the Oracle bombard me with any dark visions she might have had of my future with the vampires.


    I found myself well out of my way for the second time that evening, wandering into Central Park, which was a favorite place for me to clear my mind. If I happened to stumble across a wayward creepy-crawly while I was here, well¡­Sig couldn¡¯t really get mad at me if trouble found me, could he? I wasn¡¯t exactly going looking for it if I was just taking a nighttime stroll. Holden thought I was spending the evening working with Keaty, so I was free to wander without my vampire shadow. Truthfully, my former warden was a little slack on his bodyguard duties. He knew I could take care of myself.


    It was only nine o¡¯clock, but the park was empty and deathly still in the frigid February air. We¡¯d finally gotten snow on Christmas Day, and now a crystalline fog of ice clung to everything that held still too long. The towering giant of the Museum of Natural History looked like it had been dusted with sugar, glittering benignly in the light of the half moon.


    The sound of shattering glass, however, was not part of the winter ambiance I¡¯d set out to find.


    I stopped walking and looked around. Considering I¡¯d just been thinking about trouble finding me, it felt like Sig might pop out at any second and shout A-ha! I knew you were up to no good. It was hard not to feel like this was some kind of test.


    There was more glass breaking, but no alarms sounded. I didn¡¯t think that was possible in a museum as highly protected as the AMNH. Where were the guards? The alarm bells? I surveyed the back entrance of the museum like an invitation I was afraid to accept.


    If the entire night staff of a museum were murdered by monsters, it probably wouldn¡¯t bode too well for the reputation of paranormal creatures everywhere. Really, I was doing the council a giant favor by preemptively putting a stopper on what might be a huge scandal.


    At least that was what I told myself as I traipsed down the steps to the recessed doors most commonly used for school field trips and tour groups. I pressed my face to the glass, my breath fogging up the space closest to my mouth. Inside, the giant Native American canoe loomed overhead, but the heavy wooden doors leading into the hall of the Pacific Coast Peoples were closed.


    All the glass doors at this entrance were still locked, and none were shattered, so the breaking glass had either come from inside the museum¡ªas I suspected¡ªor overhead. Jogging back up the stairs, I surveyed the rows of windows on the upper floors of the museum.

 Page 7

    Decades earlier, a pretty-boy con artist named Jack Murphy, or Murph the Surf, had used those windows as an access point to the museum and managed to steal the priceless Star of India sapphire. I had no interest in fencing precious gems, but if someone had broken into the museum tonight, those windows were their most likely point of entrance.


    Doing a visual assessment of each window, I was about ready to admit I was wrong when I noticed one on the third floor open a tiny crack more than the others. Being that it was February, I somehow doubted a curator had left it ajar for the fresh air.


    So now came the fun part¡ªI got to scale a fucking building.


    Call it dumb luck¡ªmy favorite kind¡ªbut I¡¯d had the inadvertent foresight to wear boots without a heel tonight. They also had a sturdy grip, because the city streets were remarkably icy of late, and I wasn¡¯t immune to wipeouts no matter how good my reflexes were. A slick sidewalk had a way of making anybody its bitch.


    With my bag slung across my chest, I marched up the outer stairwell and looked for the path of least resistance. Ten minutes later I was precariously balanced on a teensy stone outcropping under the open window. My jeans were torn at the knee, and I¡¯d invented a fun new string of profanities I hoped I¡¯d be able to recall later.


    Let me be the first to say, I will never make a good cat burglar.


    The window squealed at me with exaggerated protest as I pushed it open. Inside, I found myself in someone¡¯s cluttered office. Judging by the skeletons behind glass and all the books jammed haphazardly on the shelves, this particular curator studied reptiles. Or tiny dragons. It was hard to tell. The room smelled of Old Spice and leather.


    I¡¯d expected to hear more commotion from the inside of the museum, but the silence was so complete it felt thick and suffocating. In the hallway outside the office it was more of the same, just a quietness so complete it made my ears ring. That was more worrisome than the crashing glass, because it meant there were no usual human night watch noises. I didn¡¯t spend much time breaking and entering in city landmarks, but I was a night person, and I knew the way places like this operated.


    To minimize the sound of my footfalls on the slick stairs, I did something school children everywhere would have killed to do and slid down the marble banister from the third floor to the second. I had to do it in two parts thanks to the midlevel landing, and it wasn¡¯t nearly as fun as I¡¯d hoped. The thrill was ruined by the expectation I might find a dead body any second.


    On the second floor I paused and listened. I was braced for more silence, but instead I was rewarded with a muffled creaking, then a loud crash. Someone swore, and for once it wasn¡¯t me.


    Entering the Hall of Marine Life from the second-floor doors, I caught my breath when I saw the massive blue whale suspended from the ceiling grinning at me with its huge, passive mouth. For a moment I forgot my purpose in being here and was struck dumb by the giant creature that appeared to be floating in the dimmed light of the hall. My life was so clouded with ugly, evil, unpleasant things it was easy to forget what real beauty looked like.


    A sigh eased from my lips.


    On the topic of evil, unpleasant things, the pitter-patter of fleeing footsteps sounded from behind the doors on the other end of the hall.


    ¡°Son of a bitch.¡± I slammed my palm against the metal railing meant to keep visitors from tumbling into the viewing room below.


    Once I reached the corridor, the echoing footfalls were not going towards a traditional exit, as I¡¯d expected, but had moved up to the third floor. I took off at a run, taking the stairs two at a time since I couldn¡¯t exactly slide back up the railings. I passed several now-open office doors that had definitely been closed when I¡¯d broken in less than half an hour earlier.


    At first I didn¡¯t see a trend to which doors had been opened. They seemed to be selected at random. A geologist. A gemologist. Another geo¡ªoh, so they weren¡¯t so random after all. Could this be as simple as a jewel heist? Sure, the museum was lousy with priceless gemstones, but wouldn¡¯t stealing a shipment from the diamond district be way less risky than trying to get away with something out of the museum¡¯s collection?


    And if the haul was all that mattered, why check the offices? The good stuff was in the exhibit halls and overflow storage.


    At the end of the hall, where the next corner led back to the main visitor corridors, another door clicked open. I hadn¡¯t heard anyone in the hall, or seen anyone move, and yet there was someone up ahead of me I shouldn¡¯t have been able to miss. More scuffling noises and another cuss. I was close enough now I could tell my quarry was female.


    A girl cat burglar? I couldn¡¯t decide if I was impressed by her moxie or disgusted by the cliche.


    I crept towards the office with my back to the wall. The shuffling sounds gave way to the distinctive rustle of papers and another bout of breaking glass. What the hell was this girl after? When I was right next to the door, I finally drew my gun, which I¡¯d picked up at home to replace the katana. Up until then I was only chasing ghostly noises. Now that I was about to come face-to-face with whatever was in the office, I wanted to be prepared.


    Just having the SIG 9mm in my hands made me feel calmer, dulling the anxious excitement of potential violence. Loading a bullet might be too obvious given how quiet the museum was, so I¡¯d have to wait until I knew who I was facing before I went ahead and chambered a round.


    I sucked in a breath, then nudged the door wide open with the toe of my boot, raising my gun at the same time. The stink of rotten eggs wafted out. The curator must have left an egg-salad sandwich in his desk a little too long. With senses as heightened as mine, the smell was so noxious I gagged.


    Shifting my weight so it was balanced between both feet, I rested my thumbs parallel on the butt of the gun, fingers staying light so I could quickly load a bullet and fire if the need arose.


    When I stepped into the room I started to say something, but I was so startled my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and refused to form words. A young woman stood behind a big wooden desk with her back to me, smashing the panes in a display case that had been built on the wall in between two large bookshelves. She was riffling around, oblivious to the shards of glass scraping up her hands, and judging by her swearing, she wasn¡¯t finding what she was looking for.


    She didn¡¯t look like any burglar I¡¯d ever seen. I couldn¡¯t make out the finer details through the darkness, but she was one of the most unassuming criminals to ever cross my path. Slightly pudgy, with a boring shoulder-length haircut and a wardrobe that screamed dorm, this girl would have been more at home in a classroom than breaking into a museum.


    She hadn¡¯t noticed me when I toed the door open, but when I stepped closer, my boots crunched on fallen debris from the desk, and she spun around, still clutching bits of rock from the display case.


    My snide remarks froze in their tracks.


    Her eyes, which I should not have been able to see so well in the dark, were glowing like stoked coals, orangered and getting brighter. The pupils seemed wrong too, but I was so alarmed by the fiery irises focused on me I couldn¡¯t spare a thought for much else.


    The girl snarled, and it didn¡¯t sound like anything I¡¯d heard in all my years chasing monsters. The rumbling growl sent a warning signal to my stomach, making my guts twitch nervously. My hands stayed level and steady though.


    ¡°Put the rocks down,¡± I instructed. Whatever she was looking for, I was certain I didn¡¯t want her to have it. Maybe I should have been more specific about how she put the rocks down, however, because she decided to hurl them at my head with shocking force.


    I had to raise my hands, gun and all, to block the assault, but even so one of the stones caught my forehead over my eyebrow before I could deflect all the projectiles. The whole incident lasted only two or three seconds, but when I looked up again she was already in motion.


    She moved with the eerie speed of something supernatural. I chambered a bullet and steadied the gun, attempting to predict where she would be in the second it would take for the bullet to find her, then I fired. Her howl told me I¡¯d landed a hit. When she stopped moving, there were three feet between us, and she was holding her bloody shoulder. But the wound seemed to be her secondary concern. She was glaring at me with murderous intent, her red eyes glowing like a raging fire.


    The girl snarled again, then stumbled backwards. ¡°I won¡¯t forget this,¡± she promised before she threw herself into the window. An explosion of glass and wood framing burst outward, and she seemed to move in slow motion, flying out into the night sky. Cold wind rushed in to fill the vacuum, slapping my loose curls against my cheeks and dragging them over my eyes as an all-too-effective blindfold. Shaking the tendrils out of my line of sight, I dashed over to the window, keeping my gun up and ready when I peered out the broken hole.


    The ground was littered with glass, gleaming on par with the frozen atmosphere, but there was no sign of the girl.


    ¡°What the f¡ª¡±


    The sound of the shattering window had barely left my ears when the museum alarm finally went off.


    Chapter Seven


    My knees were bouncing excitedly, and I couldn¡¯t stop wringing my hands together. I was sitting in a red leather wingback chair, and I was only staying seated because I¡¯d been threatened with the wrath of God if I didn¡¯t stop pacing.


    More specifically I¡¯d been threatened with the wrath of a half-fairy, half-god Oracle who was running out of patience with my anxiousness.


    Calliope was crouched in front of me, trying to still my hands while she dabbed the cut on my forehead with a damp cloth. I can¡¯t imagine what a maniac I must have looked like when I stepped into the doorway of the Starbucks on West 52nd and 8th with a bleeding head wound.


    I also hadn¡¯t stopped talking since I¡¯d been transported into Calliope¡¯s waiting room, but I had no idea if what I was saying made any sense. I just kept talking because she hadn¡¯t said anything to interrupt me, and I didn¡¯t have the common sense to stop on my own.


    She folded the cloth and placed it on the arm of the chair, then put one hand on each of my knees and squeezed them, too hard for me to mistake it as a gesture of comfort. My restless bouncing ceased immediately, and the words I¡¯d been spewing turned into a raspy sigh. I really looked at her for the first time since I¡¯d arrived.

 Page 8

    In another lifetime, Calliope had been Marilyn Monroe, but it was hard to think of them as the same person. She still had the wide-eyed youthful innocence in her appearance, but her hair was ink black and she radiated power and intelligence instead of charming naivete. Today she seemed tired, and there was a weary strain around her eyes. Once she was seated on the arm of the chair, she started stroking my hair, and I realized she hadn¡¯t spoken since I¡¯d gotten here except for when she made me sit. Not that I¡¯d given her a chance to get a word in edgewise.


    ¡°Do you know what she was?¡± Calliope asked, like she¡¯d read my mind.


    ¡°Creepy.¡±


    ¡°Aside from that.¡±


    ¡°No, I was hoping you might have some insight.¡±


    ¡°Do you have anything to go on other than average looking and glowing eyes?¡±


    ¡°I think I said dowdy.¡±


    Calliope arched a brow at me and tugged one of my curls. It reminded me of something Sig might do to bring me back to the topic at hand. She wouldn¡¯t appreciate being compared to her ex-lover, so I buried the thought.


    I touched the cut on my forehead which had already scabbed over. The tissue was tender, but it would be completely healed in an hour or so.


    ¡°No,¡± I replied at last. ¡°I don¡¯t have anything.¡±


    ¡°Could be a fire fae. Or a spirit-possessed human. Half-demon perhaps. There are any number of things. She could have been a witch, even. Some spells have physical manifestations.¡±


    Making a mental note to ask Grandmere if she knew any spells that would give the caster ember eyes, I shifted the subject radically.


    ¡°I need to ask you something.¡±


    ¡°Mmm?¡±


    ¡°How much do you know about the Tribunal?¡±


    Her whole body went still, and her tone was cold when she asked, ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not about¡­ It¡¯s just¡­ I think I¡¯m changing.¡±


    ¡°Changing?¡±


    ¡°Lately I¡¯ve found it¡¯s getting harder and harder to calm the urge to feed on humans.¡± I watched her closely, trying to see if her demeanor would change after the confession.


    ¡°Are you worried you wouldn¡¯t be able to control yourself?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then feed on humans. What¡¯s the issue?¡±


    I suppose it was foolish to think Calliope would understand my hesitation. After all, she fed on virgin blood and aura energy. Taking sustenance from humans made sense to her because it was how she survived. It was a way of life for the vampires as well. I think only the wolves could relate to my squeamishness, and that was because they still associated themselves with humanity.


    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s natural enough.¡±


    I gritted my teeth and shook my head. ¡°No.¡±


    When I looked back over, she was staring at me intently. ¡°You¡¯re afraid.¡± Her gaze bore into me, making me shiver in spite of the roaring fire across the room. ¡°The power of the Tribunal frightens you because you aren¡¯t sure you want to give yourself over to their world.¡±


    Well, there was no sense in arguing with an Oracle, especially since she was always right.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Is that why you won¡¯t feed from a live human? Because to do so means you will become what Sig and the Tribunal want you to be?¡±


    I swallowed hard. ¡°Probably.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Secret.¡± She touched the crown of my head delicately. ¡°I should have been honest with you long before now, but Sig said it would only confuse you. But I think you¡¯re stronger now than you were all those years ago.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I couldn¡¯t hide the quiver of worry from sneaking into my voice. Her buildup made it seem like she was about to tell me I had a terminal illness and was living on borrowed time. Although in my line of work all time was borrowed anyway.


    ¡°Do you know how I do what I do?¡± she asked.


    ¡°How you¡­oracle?¡±


    Her hand dropped from my hair, and she leaned her head back. ¡°Fore¡ª¡± She sighed, and I was familiar with the sound. I made the same exasperated exhalation whenever I was with my vampire protegee Brigit. Not a good sign. ¡°Close enough,¡± she concluded.


    ¡°I assumed you had visions or something.¡±


    ¡°Not exactly.¡± Calliope grabbed my hand and turned it palm up. ¡°All mortal beings have a path. And most of them will follow it precisely as it is laid out for them.¡± She trailed a manicured fingernail over the long line down the middle of my palm. ¡°For most people I can tell what will happen to them because I can see their path.¡±


    ¡°Ohhh-kay.¡±


    She ignored me and grabbed my other hand, putting the palms side by side. ¡°You aren¡¯t like most people.¡±


    ¡°Tell me something I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡± She traced the line on my left hand. ¡°Yours is a destiny divided.¡±


    I looked at my palms, hoping they could explain what her cryptic words meant. Her nail followed one line, then moved to the right hand and trailed along the middle line there, which was significantly longer, bisecting the entire palm where the one on my left hand was only about two inches long.


    ¡°What do you mean by divided?¡±


    ¡°You have two potential destinies.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s impossible. You just said everyone has a path, we follow that path, live our lives and die. A person can¡¯t have two destinies.¡±


    Calliope pressed my hands together and put them in my lap. They began to tremble.


    ¡°No. I said most people, not everyone.¡±


    ¡°So what are my paths?¡±


    ¡°You are part of two worlds, Secret. Each one of them represents a path. Whichever world you choose to align yourself with is the path you will be on. I cannot see all the way, and you haven¡¯t chosen your path yet.¡±


    I unclasped my hands and stared down at them. ¡°What is the line in the middle?¡±


    ¡°Your lifeline.¡± She held up her own palm, and it was utterly smooth, not a line in sight. As a true immortal, I gathered trivial things like lifelines didn¡¯t come up very often for her.


    ¡°One of mine is shorter than the other.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    I didn¡¯t say anything. Part of me wanted to ask her which path was which, and what it meant that one line was so much longer, but I had a pretty good idea. The long line must be my vampire life, and the short one if I choose to stay with the wolves. I pressed my palms back together.


    ¡°What if I keep going as I am now? Living in both worlds.¡±


    ¡°Is that what you¡¯re doing, Secret? Living? Or are you being torn apart?¡±


    My eyelid twitched, and I got to my feet abruptly, hurt by her words. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask for this, you know. I was born this way, and I¡¯m doing the best I know how with it.¡±


    Calliope nodded and watched me, but there was sadness in her eyes I couldn¡¯t ignore.


    ¡°Tell me which one to choose,¡± I asked, holding my hands out to her.


    She rose and came to stand in front of me, taking my hands in hers and squeezing. ¡°When the time comes, you¡¯ll know.¡±


    I pulled my hands away. ¡°You don¡¯t know, do you? You don¡¯t know which path is the right one.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t until you do.¡±


    ¡°Awesome. Cal, I love you, I really do, but have you ever heard the phrase no news is good news? If you can¡¯t tell me my destiny, and you don¡¯t know the right path for me, why did you tell me any of this at all?¡±


    ¡°You need to know that a time will come when there will no longer be one option or the other, and it will have been decided for you. If I tell you there are two paths, it is in your power to guide your destiny and not have it guide you.¡±


    I heaved a sigh. She meant well, but the last thing I wanted to hear was that my life was going to get even more complicated.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t tell you more,¡± she added.


    ¡°So am I.¡±


    ¡°But you can¡¯t escape this. You will have to choose.¡±


    Turning away, I moved towards the exit. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll burn that bridge when I get there.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you soon, Secret.¡±


    Looking over my shoulder, I gave her a weak smile. ¡°You would know.¡±


    Chapter Eight


    Dinner was turning into an unmitigated disaster.


    Unlike Desmond, who was gifted with otherworldly cooking skills, Lucas was not a natural in the kitchen. I was sitting on a high barstool, elbows perched on the central island, watching as he dug himself deeper and deeper into the grave of embarrassment. I could have offered to help, but I wasn¡¯t exactly the most skilled chef myself. I didn¡¯t need to be. There are only so many ways one can serve blood. Hot, cold or fresh from the tap. And it took thirty-eight seconds to make a steak to my satisfaction.


    Lucas and I had been in his kitchen for almost an hour, and by now I felt like we were filming an outtake reel for a home-cooking show.


    ¡°Lucas, it¡¯s really sweet¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve almost got it,¡± he said, rushed panic edging his voice.


    Perhaps it was better to avoid soothing his bruised ego.


    He opened the oven door and smoke billowed outwards. The only time I¡¯d ever seen someone burn something so badly it smoked was the last time Nolan used Keaty¡¯s kitchen and managed to ruin French fries. Cupping my chin in my hand, I let out a huffed sigh, which masked the laugh I was having a hard time keeping in.


    With no oven mitt, he reached in to pull out the tray containing our dinner. At first I assumed he couldn¡¯t possibly be stupid enough to grab a blistering-hot metal rack with his bare hands, so I didn¡¯t say anything. But as he got closer, I realized he was just flustered enough to have forgotten Kitchen Basics 101.


    ¡°No,¡± I shrieked, vaulting myself over the island and kicking the oven door shut. The metal door skimmed Lucas¡¯s hand, and he jerked it back, giving me a hard look. My hip was pressed against the oven, ensuring he didn¡¯t make another grab for the door until he understood what an idiot he¡¯d almost proven himself to be.

 Page 9

    He looked from me to my empty stool, which was still wobbling from my sudden exit, and his eyes widened. Over the island, a hanging rack of copper pots was swaying, creating a jangling symphony of metal against metal.


    ¡°How did you¡­?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty fast when I need to be.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    The oven mitts were on the marble countertop next to the stove, and I shoved them into his hands. ¡°You might want to remember those next time.¡±


    A squeak from the kitchen door made us both look up. Dominick Alvarez stood in the open door, arms crossed over his chest, his blond hair flattened on one side and sticking up at the back like he¡¯d just rolled out of bed. He was glowering at us with a serious, disapproving expression that was belied by the mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes.


    He couldn¡¯t have appeared more different from his brother. In fact, he could have easily been mistaken for Lucas¡¯s brother instead of Desmond¡¯s.


    ¡°I can¡¯t leave you two alone for a night?¡± he scolded.


    ¡°Lucas can¡¯t cook.¡±


    ¡°I could have told you that.¡±


    The wolf king glowered at us, but with the haze of gray smoke clouding the room, the evidence was stacked against him. He didn¡¯t argue.


    Dominick came into the kitchen and, with one hand on either side of my waist, moved me away from the oven. He relieved Lucas of the oven mitts, then placed the charred remains of our dinner on the counter. It had once been a lovely roast, but now it was a blackened hunk of beef that didn¡¯t resemble anything more than a funeral pyre.


    ¡°Sit,¡± the royal bodyguard insisted, and both Lucas and I did as we were told, perching side by side at the island.


    For the next half hour, Dominick proved Grace Alvarez didn¡¯t raise any slackers when it came to kitchen prowess. The short werewolf navigated the room with ease and confidence, mixing sauce and braising meat like he could do it in his sleep. A smirk of approval painted my lips when I watched him barely touch our steaks to the pan before declaring them perfect.


    He set two plates in front of us, each with a large steak in red wine sauce and a side of whiskey-glazed baby potatoes. The kitchen no longer smelled of smoke and frustration, and even Lucas was smiling and laughing as Dominick told us a story about how badly his little sister Penny had once burned a batch of chocolate-chip cookies.


    When all was said and done, Dominick placed a fraternal kiss on the top of my head and slipped out of the kitchen like a culinary ghost.


    ¡°Why, Lucas,¡± I declared dramatically. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were so skilled in the kitchen.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t like to brag.¡± He was cutting into his steak, fighting a grin. ¡°But I¡¯m skilled in a lot of other ways too.¡±


    Those words, and the heated glance that followed, made me shiver.


    I looked back at my meal, suddenly engrossed in the food. ¡°Let¡¯s eat.¡±


    One of the perks of dating a billionaire was access to the most unprecedented views of the city.


    I love New York more than any place in the world. Everything from the dirty sidewalks of Chinatown to the clean white lines of the Museum of Modern Art warmed my heart and made me smile. It was a city I normally saw from the ground floor looking up, so when I got to look at it from eighty floors overhead, it was like being in heaven and gazing down at the earth.


    Having never seen the city in daylight, I wondered if it could match the magic of a Manhattan night. With all the lights and the sinewy lines of white and red traffic, could it possibly look as beautiful in the sun?


    Lucas¡¯s reflection in the window gave away his approach, but I acted surprised when he came up behind me and handed me a glass of red wine.


    ¡°I love this room.¡± Since Lucas and I had begun dating last year, I¡¯d had a chance to see every room in his three-story penthouse in Rain Hotel. The massive lounge on the third floor was by far my favorite. The couches were black microsuede, and there was a stocked bar on the back wall. But it was the view I liked best. A full wall of floor-to-ceiling windows provided a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree view of the city.


    When the lights in the room were turned off, it was like nothing stood between us and the city.


    Wait, when did he turn the lights off?


    Warm breath puffed against my neck, reigniting the shivers I¡¯d felt at dinner. His nose traced the line of my jaw, his mouth skimming against my throat making goose bumps explode all over my body. When Lucas looped his arms around my waist, pulling me close to him, the heat of his body was surprising. Since I was always an average temperature, the presence of a werewolf was like standing next to an open flame. I was used to Desmond, but Lucas felt different somehow.


    He nipped my earlobe, and I took a big swallow of the wine he¡¯d given me.


    ¡°This is great. Cabernet?¡± The moment I said it I knew I was babbling like an idiot. Of course it wasn¡¯t a cabernet; I could have figured that out on my own just from the taste.


    ¡°Pinot noir,¡± he whispered against my skin. The name of a wine had never sounded so sensual.


    Damn my fickle libido. A familiar hot tingle was stealing through me, turning to molten heat under the surface of my skin. Everywhere he touched me¡ªand his hands were roaming now¡ªfelt like I was being burned. Only it wasn¡¯t unpleasant. It was never unpleasant when Lucas touched me.


    Which was why I tried to avoid it.


    I understood perfectly well that my soul-bond with him made me respond to him as a mate. But I was living with Desmond, I loved Desmond, and where I came from it meant something to be in love. The problem with the bond was that my metaphysical connection to Lucas was actually stronger than my connection to Desmond. So although my emotional attachment to the wolf lieutenant was deeper, my bond to Lucas was almost overpowering. It had overshadowed the secondary bond altogether the first time I met the two of them.


    When I was in close quarters with Lucas¡ªwith his hands all over me and his voice so intoxicating in my ear¡ªthe bond fought to squash reason. Sure, you love Desmond, it said, but this is right too.


    According to Lucas it was right for me to love them both. But I think he still wanted me to love him more. And I think it was driving him crazy knowing I was having sex with Desmond but still hadn¡¯t shared that part of myself with him. Most men would be pretty frustrated waiting almost a year to bed their girlfriend. I can¡¯t imagine it made it easier to know I was getting satisfaction somewhere else, while Lucas got none.


    At least I hoped he wasn¡¯t finding his satisfaction somewhere else.


    The thread of possessive jealousy in that thought fed the building desire, and when Lucas kissed my shoulder blade, I shuddered.


    ¡°Lucas¡­¡±


    He found the hem of my shirt, his smooth palms ducking under the loose cotton. Skin-to-skin contact was too much. I let out a gasp, startled by the burst of liquid heat rippling outwards from his fingers.


    ¡°We can¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shhh,¡± he urged, inching closer, pushing us nearer to the window. I put a palm up, still holding the wineglass in my other hand, and the coolness of the window made the fiery presence of his body that much hotter.


    He was taller than me by a head, so he was forced to stoop as he kissed me. I think the extra distance between our upper bodies was the only thing keeping me sane. Then my shirt was up as high as my bra, and sanity was a fleeting memory.


    I turned towards him and met his wandering mouth with a scorching kiss. Pressed against him like this I couldn¡¯t ignore his growing hardness, and my mind swam with the possibilities. I growled into his mouth, biting his lower lip, and he responded by edging his knee in between my legs. Knowing Lucas¡¯s make-out style as well as I did, he was on the verge of picking me up. I guess tall guys don¡¯t love getting a crick in their neck when they have short girlfriends.


    I saved him the trouble and shoved him backwards. He fell off the raised platform by the windows and onto one of the large couches, but a firm grip on my shirt meant he took me with him. Lucas landed on his back, and I was straddling him, still holding a half-full glass of wine, which I¡¯d miraculously saved on our way down.


    I sipped the drink and tried to act nonchalant, but he was using his new position to his advantage. Lifting me so I was poised over his hips instead of his stomach, he let out a groan as I shifted my balance.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I whispered, putting my glass down on the coffee table.


    ¡°I¡¯ll show you sorry,¡± he growled, seizing a handful of my hair and pulling me closer, kissing me with naked, ferocious hunger that brought the heat between us to a fever pitch. He tugged at my shirt and instructed, ¡°Off.¡±


    I complied, tugging the shirt over my head and tossing it away. It caught the wineglass, knocking the drink over and sopping up the remains. Well, at least I¡¯d ruined a shirt with something other than blood for once. Ignoring the mess, I returned my attention to Lucas, licking his jaw. His stubble made it feel like I was licking sandpaper, but the sensation wasn¡¯t altogether unpleasant.


    The distinctive flavor of cinnamon unique to him flooded my mouth, and combined with the remnants of the pinot noir, it was a heady, dark blend that made me think of Middle Eastern spice bazaars and old spells Grandmere warned me about.


    He spread his wide palms across my stomach, moving them upwards until he was cupping my breasts. A masculine smirk played at his lips, and he got harder, his erection straining against the thin knit of my black tights. My yellow eyelet skirt had already been bunched around my hips.


    When he reached to unclasp my bra, I froze. The new tension was obvious to him, because he stopped immediately, his hands coming back around to the front like he was saying, Here they are. No funny business, I promise.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said again.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± His voice was raspy and thick with lust.


    ¡°It¡¯s just that¡ª¡±


    ¡°Secret, I get it.¡± His hands fell to my thighs and, as if acting of their own volition, slid under my skirt. When I didn¡¯t stop him, he moved closer to my inner thigh, and one thumb grazed the damp fabric between my legs.


    I groaned.

 Page 10

    ¡°Let me¡­¡± He stroked a little harder, a little faster, until my breath became low, husky panting and I was rocking my hips to meet the frenzied gestures of his fingers. ¡°Let me do something.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not that,¡± he promised before I could voice my hesitance. ¡°Will you trust me? I want to do something to you, Secret.¡±


    He stopped stroking me, and I mewled in protest, my hands clenching the front of his shirt. I didn¡¯t remember grabbing him. Lucas sat up, his mouth hovering over my breast a moment before he licked one taut nipple through the lace of my bra.


    ¡°Oh, yes. Yes, whatever you¡¯re going to do just do it already.¡±


    The press of his erection between my legs made me want to throw caution to the wind and put us both out of our misery. But I wasn¡¯t ready yet. He latched on to my nipple and used his formidable strength to spread my thighs open more. When he bit down on my breast, his hand delved under the waistband of my tights, and he thrust one finger, then two inside of me while I rode the shudder of pleasure from his bite.


    ¡°Lucas.¡± I hissed out his name as he stroked me inside, his thumb moving in dizzying circles on the outside to match each come-hither curl of his fingers. I whined, throwing my head back.


    ¡°Do you trust me?¡± he asked.


    I didn¡¯t think about it, just choked out, ¡°Yes.¡±


    He kissed my throat, teeth skimming over the surface, causing me to vibrate all over, clenching on his fingers. That only quickened his pace, his thumb rubbing slow but hard, making my head swim. If he kept at it, I might forget myself completely. There was only so much I could take before need outweighed reason.


    ¡°Don¡¯t fight me. When I do this, just let it happen.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I replied, not caring what he meant as long as he didn¡¯t stop doing what he was doing.


    He bit me.


    He pushed me backwards on the couch so he was on top of me, his hand still conquering me with its demanding, impossibly precise thrusts that made me wonder how he knew the needs of my body well enough to meet them so perfectly. But riding the crest of an orgasm, I didn¡¯t care how he knew, only that he was putting his knowledge to practical use.


    The bite took me from the edge of ecstasy right into the abyss.


    The heat between us exploded as I screamed, and I was sure we were both on fire, burning each other from head to toe, but it didn¡¯t matter. Let it consume me and turn me to ash, nothing else mattered but drowning in it.


    Where his teeth sank into my neck, it felt like an electrical current was running through him and into me, and the spark of it, like a live wire, ran from his mouth all the way to my groin, making me clench around his fingers again and turning one orgasm into two, then three, then they came so fast and hard I couldn¡¯t keep count anymore and lost all sense of my body except for the riot of need.


    When he pulled his mouth away, I was sagging and boneless. I couldn¡¯t open my eyes or lift my head. I simply lay beneath him, panting and soaked with sweat, aftershock shivers rolling over me. Lucas licked my neck, then kissed my lips with a restrained delicacy that was in glaring opposition to what we¡¯d just done.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Uhn.¡± I raised one limp hand and patted him on the back.


    He laughed, then lay down beside me, snuggling me close to him. Before we both fell asleep, he picked up the remote off the table and hit a button, bringing down lightproof curtains over the massive windows. Now I could sleep through the day, safe from the deadly light of morning.


    ¡°I love you,¡± he whispered into my hair.


    I didn¡¯t know what to say back to him, so I let my breath go deep and slow and hoped he¡¯d think I¡¯d fallen asleep.


    Chapter Nine


    Dusk fell and I awoke to the sound of the shades opening on an automatic timer, letting in the purple, sunless glow of evening. Lucas was gone, but he¡¯d put a blanket over me, and a Prada box was on the coffee table instead of a broken wineglass and my soiled shirt.


    I folded the blanket, then poked the charcoal-colored box with my toe. When it didn¡¯t explode or bite me, I lifted the lid and pushed the tissue paper aside. Lucas had replaced my twelve-dollar Forever 21 blouse with a gold-toned Prada dress that still had the seven-hundred-dollar price tag attached.


    Instead of arguing about the extravagance of the gift, I decided not to question the kind gesture. He was a billionaire, after all, and I doubted he¡¯d understand why such an expensive gift made me uncomfortable. I shucked off my skirt and slipped the dress over my head. It fit perfectly, and now I wouldn¡¯t have to go home topless.


    I entered the kitchen in search of my purse, holding yesterday¡¯s skirt in one hand and my leather jacket draped over the other arm.


    ¡°Did you come to give that back to me?¡± Dominick asked.


    I yelped. He was leaning against the counter beside the fridge, and I hadn¡¯t noticed him when I¡¯d come into the room. The jacket I thought of as mine had, in fact, once been Dominick¡¯s. I¡¯d sort of forgotten about that since I¡¯d had it for so long.


    Sheepishly, I looked down at the jacket, then back at him. ¡°Did you want it back?¡±


    He laughed and set the bowl he¡¯d been eating from back on the counter, next to an open box of MultiGrain Cheerios. Five thirty in the evening seemed like a weird time to be eating cereal, but sometimes people get strange cravings. ¡°Keep it,¡± he insisted. ¡°It looks better on you anyway.¡±


    I hugged the jacket possessively and smiled at him. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    When I came closer to the island, looking under the stools for my missing bag, Dominick went rigid. He stood in front of me, and as I straightened, he grabbed my face and turned my head abruptly to the side.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I snapped, smacking him in the chest. ¡°What the hell?¡±


    Dominick dropped his hand like I¡¯d burned him, taking a step back from me. ¡°What happened last night?¡±


    ¡°Uh, personal question, Dominick.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like I¡¯m asking if you guys got it on or anything. I¡¯m asking what¡¯s up with your neck.¡± Judging by the drawn expression on his face, he knew more than he was letting on, but I for one had no idea what he was talking about.


    My hand flew to my throat, and instead of smooth skin I felt the raised edge of a scab, and the skin was tender. Bruised. But that was impossible. Something as small as a little love bite should have easily healed while I was at rest for the day.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Finding the closest stool, I sat down. ¡°Does it look bad?¡±


    ¡°Looks like one hell of a hickey.¡± He took a seat across from me. ¡°Des is gonna love it.¡±


    Frowning, I set my skirt and jacket on the island and touched the wound again. It was sensitive under my featherlight fingers, which meant it probably looked brutal, especially if it was still around after so many hours.


    ¡°That¡¯s the weirdest thing.¡± My hands fell into my lap.


    ¡°Not that weird,¡± Dominick mumbled.


    Before he had a chance to explain what he meant, the kitchen door opened and Lucas came in. He bent down and kissed me with enough flourish he had to brace himself on the counter of the island, and Dominick cleared his throat to remind us he was still there. I hadn¡¯t forgotten, but Lucas was otherwise distracted.


    It wasn¡¯t until he pulled back that I realized I hadn¡¯t tasted anything.


    I licked my lips, ran my tongue over the back of my teeth, sucked the interior of my cheeks, but nothing. He¡¯d had a vague espresso flavor in his mouth when he kissed me, but there was zero taste of cinnamon. My heart started to pound, and my eyes flicked to Dominick, but now he wouldn¡¯t look at me.


    ¡°Lucas, I can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°That dress looks incredible on you.¡± He pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, and under the weight of his gaze, I felt a familiar warmth fan through me, the warmth I associated with our soul-bond. The anxiety building in me tapered off. Okay, so I wasn¡¯t tasting him, but the bond was clearly still working. Maybe the taste was only a temporary thing, or maybe it wasn¡¯t so obvious right now because I¡¯d spent the night with him.


    I tried to remember if the lime flavor of my bond with Desmond was always apparent when I woke up with him. I thought so, but maybe I only assumed it was. But in spite of the warmth of my bond with Lucas, a queasy feeling churned in my gut.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I replied to his compliment. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful.¡±


    ¡°I knew you¡¯d like it.¡±


    ¡°I do.¡± I hopped off the stool and saw my purse beside the kitchen door. Scooping it up, I stared at Dominick until he finally looked back. ¡°Dominick was about to take me home.¡±


    Oblivious to my unease, Lucas took a sip of his water and nodded, a broad smile on his face when he turned to me. ¡°I¡¯ll give you a call later tonight.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± I tugged Dominick off the stool and pulled him out the kitchen door.


    The whole way back to my apartment Dominick played dumb. Anything I asked he would reply, ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡± By the time he turned onto my block, I was ready to strangle him or cry with frustration.


    The moment we pulled up to my apartment, with Desmond¡¯s Dodge Charger parked in front of my BMW Z4¡ªanother pricey gift from Lucas¡ªit no longer mattered what Dominick was or wasn¡¯t telling me. I just needed to know if I could still taste Desmond.


    I didn¡¯t bother to say goodbye to Dominick, or to close any doors when I burst into the apartment. I dropped my bag on the ground and called out. My voice sounded strained and fearful, nothing like it usually did.


    Desmond poked his wet head out of the bathroom and came out, wrapping a towel around his waist. It wasn¡¯t the view of his toned abs or his damp, glistening olive skin that made my heart leap. The tart, bright flavor of lime exploding in my mouth the moment I was close to him was what made me throw myself into his arms and hug him, never wanting to let him go.


    ¡°Hey, hi.¡± He rubbed my back in comforting circles and held me close. ¡°Good to see you too. It¡¯s only been a night, you know.¡± Desmond ducked his head, giving me a smile meant to comfort, but it faltered when he saw my face. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

 Page 11

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I was worried. When I woke up I couldn¡¯t taste Lucas anymore, and I thought something in the bond was broken, but he was acting like everything was hunky-dory and I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Wait, wait, wait.¡± He released me and stepped back, holding his towel up with one hand. ¡°What did you say?¡±


    ¡°I was afraid something was broken?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No, about Lucas.¡±


    ¡°Oh. I couldn¡¯t taste him when I woke up tonight.¡±


    Desmond¡¯s focus darted to my neck, and his cheeks flushed. Feeling guilty but not knowing why, I covered the hickey with my hand and looked away. Desmond had known I was on a date with Lucas last night, and he knew the bond was the same for me and the wolf king as it was for me and him. He couldn¡¯t be oblivious to the fact Lucas and I sometimes got a little physical. I did feel bad it was so in his face though.


    Why hadn¡¯t the stupid thing healed?


    ¡°Son of a bitch,¡± Desmond growled, punching the wall next to the bathroom door so hard he broke through the drywall.


    I went rigid, afraid to move or breathe. I¡¯d seen Desmond angry, but never like this, and never over such a stupid reason. When he pulled his hand out of the wall, it was coated in plaster dust and flecked with blood. I tried to reach out, wanting to make sure he wasn¡¯t hurt too badly, but he jerked away.


    ¡°No,¡± he snarled, holding his hand away from me. He took a few steps back, then pointed to the hall table where my cell phone was sitting. I¡¯d forgotten it the night before, and the red message light was flashing. ¡°Mercedes keeps calling.¡±


    His expression was an unsettling mixture of pain and rage, and he couldn¡¯t look me in the eyes, too focused on my neck.


    ¡°Desmond, I¡¯m sorry, I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Just¡­just answer your phone and go, okay?¡±


    The bathroom door slammed behind him, and I was left alone in the hall with nothing but a blinking phone and a thousand unanswered questions.


    Chapter Ten


    Some things in life will stick with you forever.


    Desmond¡¯s tortured expression was one of them. The seven voicemails from Detective Mercedes Castilla were another. The first half dozen were mysterious and vague. ¡°Secret, it¡¯s Cedes, call me, chica, it¡¯s important.¡± They escalated, her voice worried by the last message. ¡°I need you to call me ASAP. This can¡¯t wait. I wanted to warn you before he used his phone call, but if you don¡¯t call me back, I can¡¯t. Please, Secret, call me back.¡±


    What was so important? And who was she talking about? Had Nolan gotten in trouble? Or, God forbid, had Keaty been arrested for something he couldn¡¯t explain? My cell¡¯s answering machine told me I had an eighth and final message.


    ¡°Secret.¡± Right away my whole body went cold. I¡¯d been pacing my living room, watching the bathroom door for any sign Desmond might come back out, but once I heard my name spoken with such familiarity, I had to sit down. I recognized the speaker¡¯s hushed pitch with just one word. That voice had once haunted these walls, had whispered sweet nothings to me in my bedroom. It twisted my guts into knots and made bile wash up the back of my throat. ¡°Hey, Secret. It¡¯s, uh, it¡¯s Gabe. Gabriel Holbrook?¡± Like I¡¯d fucking forget. ¡°See, um, thing is, I¡¯m in a bit of a bind, and I didn¡¯t know who else to call.¡±


    Now all of Mercedes¡¯s messages made sense. She¡¯d been with me through the whole Gabriel mess. She knew how long it had taken me to recover. No wonder she¡¯d wanted to reach me so badly.


    The voicemail continued, Gabriel¡¯s recorded voice oblivious to what he was doing to me in the here and now. ¡°So, I¡¯ve been arrested. I didn¡¯t do anything, but I need your help. See, um¡­it looks like the cops think I¡¯ve killed someone.¡±


    A half hour later I was in the police station, sitting at Mercedes¡¯s cluttered desk. I watched as she and Detective Tyler Nowakowski had a heated exchange behind a wall of windows at the back of the room. Judging by her pissed-off expression, Tyler¡¯s red face and the number of times the two of them pointed at me, it seemed to be going in my favor.


    What Cedes had failed to mention in her many messages was that she wasn¡¯t in charge of Gabriel¡¯s case. She¡¯d been here when he was brought in and had tried to call me then. Her panic set in when Gabriel had told Tyler who he wanted as his one phone call. Not a lawyer. Not a family member. Nope, stupid Gabriel Holbrook had asked to call his ex-girlfriend, the private investigator.


    Normally that wouldn¡¯t have been so weird.


    Problem was, Tyler and I had a history, and it wasn¡¯t an entirely pleasant one. We¡¯d had one date, orchestrated by Mercedes, and it had gone really well until he witnessed me slaughter three vampires, and I had to have his memory erased. Or wiped as Shane had so charmingly phrased it earlier. Tyler didn¡¯t remember the incident, but he hadn¡¯t trusted me since. When I¡¯d gotten caught up in a nasty murder investigation over Christmas, his distrust turned into outright suspicion.


    He thought I was trouble, and he wasn¡¯t wrong.


    Being the first choice of contact for a suspected murderer wasn¡¯t going to help me convince him otherwise, and it wouldn¡¯t help Gabriel¡¯s case either. I shouldn¡¯t have cared what Tyler thought of me, but I did. On more than one occasion I¡¯d wrestled with the idea of telling him the truth. Mercedes knew about vampires, and she was able to deal with it. Maybe Tyler could too.


    But every time I thought about it I convinced myself it was stupid. It was also profoundly illegal, and as a Tribunal leader I¡¯d be putting myself and the council at astronomical risk if I exposed us to human authorities.


    The conference-room door banged open, and Tyler and Mercedes wove through the sea of desks until they both stood in front of me. I remained seated with my hands clasped in my lap, trying to look as innocent as possible.


    ¡°Come with me,¡± Tyler instructed.


    The poker face Mercedes was wearing told me nothing, but she gave a slight nod, so I got to my feet and followed Tyler back to his desk. Cedes stayed where she was. Detective Nowakowski¡¯s desk was the opposite of Mercedes¡¯s. His papers were all in neat piles, and there were no empty Doritos bags or week-old cups of coffee on it.


    I didn¡¯t know if Tyler would be able to stomach coffee anymore, considering the last time I¡¯d seen him with a cup it ended up being seasoned with a hell of a lot of blood.


    ¡°How long have you known Gabriel Holbrook?¡±


    ¡°We dated for about a year. And that was almost three years ago. He and I broke up awhile before I met you.¡±


    Tyler ignored my reference to our ill-fated date. ¡°Have you been in contact with him since?¡±


    I snorted.


    ¡°That¡¯s not an answer, Miss McQueen.¡±


    ¡°No, Detective. Gabriel broke up with me on a note stuck to my fridge. I woke up one night to find all of his stuff moved out of our apartment, and I can¡¯t say I had much interest in talking to him again after that.¡±


    ¡°So if you and the suspect aren¡¯t close, why would he call you?¡± Hearing Gabriel called a suspect rankled me a bit. I may not have the warm fuzzies for the guy, but he was my first love. Even if he was an asshole, that still meant something to me.


    ¡°You know what I do for a living.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Who would you rather call if you got arrested? Your mom, or someone who might actually be able to help you?¡± I didn¡¯t mention that Gabriel¡¯s mom had run off with a carnie when Gabriel was seven, and he¡¯d been raised by his ultraconservative grandmother. I wondered if Ellen was still alive.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t answer the question.¡±


    ¡°How the hell should I know why he called me, Tyler?¡± I shrugged. ¡°I haven¡¯t talked to the guy in years.¡±


    ¡°Do you want to talk to him now?¡±


    My back stiffened, and I focused on the wall behind his desk. There was a corkboard with a map of the area around the precinct and several arrest reports pinned next to it, along with mug shots of some of NYC¡¯s most wanted. I couldn¡¯t picture Gabriel¡¯s face as a mug shot.


    ¡°Not really,¡± I admitted. ¡°But I came anyway, didn¡¯t I?¡±


    Tyler¡¯s expression softened. He might have his problems trusting me, but I think deep down he still liked me. ¡°Okay,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    The holding cells were all located in the basement, and Tyler led me down a long, dimly lit gray hall. Most of the cells were empty, a few had grim-looking drunks waiting to be bailed out, but a beige door at the end of the hall led to a different annex. When he unlocked the door, there was a desk inside with an officer seated at it watching a closed-circuit monitor of the four cells beyond. A door behind him marked Restricted Access Only had a little picture of stairs under it. Guess it was a more direct route for the cops upstairs to get to the serious offenders. I¡¯d been taken on the scenic public-access tour.


    The desk officer had a clipboard and a pen in front of him. ¡°Sign in and check your weapons,¡± the officer instructed, like Tyler was too stupid to know the rules.


    Tyler signed the sheet and left his gun with the officer. I played innocent and was about to follow him to the door when the officer coughed loudly and tapped the clipboard.


    ¡°Sign in and check your weapons,¡± he repeated.


    Well, it had been worth a shot. I signed my name on the next empty line, then unzipped my boot and placed a sheathed dagger on the desk. I took off my jacket and put my SIG next to the blade. The officer eyed me suspiciously.


    ¡°I¡¯m licensed,¡± I told him, daring him with my eyes to doubt me.


    He put my weapons in the top drawer of his desk along with Tyler¡¯s and buzzed us in.


    ¡°Nice collection,¡± Tyler said as we passed through the door.


    ¡°A girl can never be too safe.¡±


    ¡°Something tells me that¡¯s not really an issue for you.¡±


    We stood in a short hallway with two cells on either side. The one closest to us on the right held a man who was fast asleep on his cot, snoring lightly. The one on the near left was empty, but I caught a familiar smell from the cell next to that, and I knew where Gabriel was. It wasn¡¯t like sensing Desmond or Lucas, but the scent of Lacoste Essential and Tide blended with his personal pheromones was distinctly Gabriel.

 Page 12

    I moved ahead of Tyler, and the detective didn¡¯t stop me.


    Gabriel was sitting on his cot with his fingers threaded through his dark blond hair. His stubble was coming in, and his clothes were rumpled. He¡¯d obviously been here through the day. When I stopped outside his cell I said nothing, but he must have heard us coming because he looked up. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he appeared older than he had the last time I¡¯d seen him. Unfortunately, the moment he smiled his hazel eyes lit up exactly the way I remembered.


    My heart skipped, and I wanted to rip it out and throw it against a wall. He¡¯d destroyed me, broken my heart into a thousand pieces, and still I was excited to see him. It was all the proof I needed to know you could never be objective when it came to people you¡¯d once loved.


    ¡°You came.¡± He got to his feet and stepped up to the metal bars, looping his fingers around them. Instinctively I took a step backwards. Not because I was afraid of him, but I couldn¡¯t handle the thought of him touching me.


    ¡°Yeah, well. I wanted to see what you looked like behind bars. It suits you.¡±


    He grimaced. ¡°I deserved that.¡±


    ¡°No, Gabriel. What you deserve would be for me to have left you here to rot. Pretend I¡¯d never gotten your message. Or better yet, called back and have them deliver my own message. A big old fuck you from yours truly.¡±


    Tyler edged closer, obviously worried my bitching might turn violent. I¡¯m not sure if he was more worried for my safety or for Gabriel¡¯s.


    ¡°But instead, you¡¯re here.¡± His voice never faltered, and the hint of a smirk hung on his lips. Cocky bastard. He¡¯d known all along I would come, and I hated that he knew me well enough for that.


    ¡°So, who are they saying you¡¯ve killed?¡±


    Tyler moved backwards, closer to the exit. He probably wanted to diminish his presence in case Gabriel was about to tell me something that might be useful. I doubt he would get anything helpful, but if he did, all the better.


    ¡°Some coed at Columbia. A girl named Trish Keller.¡±


    ¡°Do you know her?¡±


    ¡°I did, yes.¡±


    ¡°How well?¡±


    ¡°We fooled around a little sometimes. Nothing serious, you know, late-night booty calls. I¡¯m a TA in one of her classes. It¡¯s sort of frowned upon.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a TA at Columbia?¡± I couldn¡¯t hide the shock in my voice. He¡¯d been in his senior year at NYU when we met, and he¡¯d talked about doing his Master¡¯s, but I¡¯d thought he was too flighty to seriously do it. Apparently I¡¯d been wrong.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Why do they think you did it?¡±


    ¡°Well, they¡¯re not really opening up to me about the case against me, you know? But I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s because I¡¯m the last person who saw her alive. Well, me and whoever killed her,¡± he corrected quickly. ¡°We met up at a pub, went back to my place, fucked, and she went home around two.¡± His callousness wasn¡¯t doing much to help his case, but Gabriel always had been a little too blunt for his own good. ¡°Someone found her sometime after that, and one of her friends told the cops she left the bar with me. So now, here I am, public enemy number one.¡±


    I frowned. ¡°Anything else?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He stepped back from the bars, shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled. ¡°You look good, Temple. I missed your disapproving face.¡±


    The only man to give me a nickname, and he hadn¡¯t forgotten it. He used to tease me mercilessly about how my hair made me look like Shirley Temple. It hadn¡¯t helped that my love for old movies and the Turner Classic Movies channel meant he had a lot of opportunities to make the reference. I swallowed a mouthful of acid.


    ¡°Did you kill her?¡± I replied.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°You going to help me?¡±


    ¡°Seems like it.¡±


    Chapter Eleven


    ¡°Desmond?¡± The apartment door closed with a quiet click, and silence rushed to greet me. I didn¡¯t need to search the rooms to know I was home alone. Shucking off my jacket and boots, I left them in a heap in the foyer and made a beeline for the bathroom.


    Under the dim lights and against the overwhelming pinkness of my fixtures, I looked sallow and exhausted. I¡¯d left my hair down when I went to the station since everyone¡¯s reactions to Lucas¡¯s love bite had been so negative, but now I shoved my hair back over my shoulder to get a look at it myself.


    It wasn¡¯t terrible. Two red, raised rows showed the perfect impression of his teeth, and a bluish-purple bruise swelled out around the bite. I¡¯d never had a hickey, at least not one that lasted long enough for me to see, so I gathered this was what they usually looked like. No big deal, right?


    I rubbed the area and winced. The bite ridges were warm, and touching them made my neck throb. The bruises felt like a dull ache. How was it possible such a minor wound hadn¡¯t healed in almost twenty-four hours? I could heal a bullet wound in the same amount of time. There was no reason these marks should still exist.


    Back in the living room I paced the area in front of my couch. Rio, my sinewy white cat, came to perch on the edge of the loveseat. Her tail flicked with each step I took, and her head tilted to the left as she watched me with her slitted green eyes.


    What a week this was turning into, and I was only three days in. My ex-boyfriend was being accused of murder; the queen of the were-ocelots was asking me to find her niece; Lucas had an impending invasion to deal with; and now one of my boyfriends wasn¡¯t talking to me because of a bruise that refused to heal. My plate was more than a little full.


    I¡¯d need to wait to deal with Lucas and the bite. Obviously there was more to it than simple foreplay, and I¡¯d need to know what was up so I could respond appropriately to Desmond¡¯s irrational anger. But that was my personal life, and it had to take the back burner to more pressing matters. Lucy Renard was missing, and she attended the same school as Trish Keller, the girl Gabriel was accused of killing.


    Looks like all roads led to Columbia University.


    I knew there was a reason I avoided campus bars.


    The Angry Butterfly was located two blocks west of the Columbia campus, but I had realized a long time ago anything within stumbling distance to the dorms was considered fair game for those who matriculated at the prestigious school.


    It was eleven o¡¯clock on a Wednesday, but apparently no one cared too much about being hung over for morning classes because the bar was crammed full. There had to be some sort of capacity violation going on here. A big jock-type telling a loud story staggered backwards while laughing, elbowed me in the ribs and sloshed beer on my boots.


    Changing out of my brand-new Prada dress had been a good idea.


    ¡°Heyyyy, sorry,¡± the drunk guy slurred, splashing me with more of his beer as he brushed off the shoulders of my jacket. How sauced was this idiot?


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, just go away.¡±


    ¡°Maaaan, can I buy you a drink? You¡¯re pretty.¡±


    I rolled my eyes and weaved past him without another word. By now I knew talking to the drunks only encouraged them. Winding my way to the bar, I signaled the bartender over with a jerk of my chin. He was an older guy, mid-forties, and the strain of being so close to this many loud-mouthed drunks was starting to show on his face and in the gray around his temples.


    ¡°What¡¯ll it be?¡± he growled.


    ¡°Jameson straight with a Guinness chaser, please.¡±


    ¡°A Guinness chaser?¡± He glared at me with naked suspicion. ¡°Can I see some ID, girlie?¡±


    Trying to be on my best behavior, I refrained from a snide comeback and opened my wallet to show him my license, proving I was twenty-three and perfectly legal to drink, thank you very much.


    ¡°Secret, eh?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d have to be pretty stupid to make up a name like that,¡± I replied, shoving my wallet back in my purse. Finally I had succeeded in making the barkeep smile, and now I knew he¡¯d be more amiable. Good thing, too, because I needed to ask him some questions.


    He poured my whiskey and put it next to a pint glass of near-black Guinness. I did the shot first, wrinkling my nose as it burned a path down my throat and made my insides feel like I¡¯d swallowed smoke. Smacking my lips, I reached for the beer and took a mouthful, ran my tongue over my teeth and grinned.


    I like my Irish booze, what can I say? I am a McQueen, after all.


    ¡°You take it easy,¡± the bartender warned. ¡°Little thing like you, don¡¯t want to see you getting into any trouble.¡±


    ¡°Do you see a lot of girls getting into trouble?¡±


    ¡°Not if I can help it. But I¡¯ve only got two eyes, and there¡¯s a lot of young ladies in here.¡± He nodded to the bustling crowd. ¡°I can¡¯t be everywhere.¡±


    ¡°Hey, can I ask if your two eyes remember seeing some girls in here recently?¡±


    Someone at the other end of the bar hollered, and the bartender shot him an unfriendly look. ¡°Yeah. Stay here, and when I¡¯m done with this asshat, I¡¯ll see if I remember your friends.¡±


    I nodded, and my patience was rewarded when the stool nearest me was vacated. I pulled two photos out of my purse, one a candid snapshot of Lucy that Genevieve had given me, and the other a computer print of Trish Keller I¡¯d taken off Facebook. God I love the Internet. The photo of Trish was perfect because in it she looked half drunk and was holding a glass in her hand. It might help the bartender remember the wildlife better if he could envision her in her natural habitat.


    I tried to tune out the animated environment of the bar. After the Rangers game and my near vamp-out, I was wary of being in crowds. Especially big boozy crowds full of drunk idiots who acted like the human equivalent of a wounded gazelle. If I wanted to keep a grip on myself, it might be a good idea if I didn¡¯t start thinking of college kids in terms of prey. Taking another sip of Guinness, I did my best to ignore the nice, blood-scented crowd.


    A girl came up next to me, but I didn¡¯t pay any attention to her. Not until she reached out and snatched the picture of Trish.

 Page 13

    ¡°What are you doing with this?¡± she demanded. She was drunk, had a full drink in hand and was teetering precariously on her too-high heels. I could smell rum on her breath.


    I sipped another mouthful of my beer, then took the paper out of her hands and set it back on the bar beside the photo of Lucy. ¡°I¡¯m looking for someone.¡±


    ¡°Well she¡¯s dead.¡± The girl jammed her finger so hard into the picture she broke a stick-on nail. ¡°So you can stop looking.¡±


    Wow, someone was feisty. I swiveled on my stool, and she obviously wasn¡¯t expecting it because she staggered backwards and almost toppled over.


    ¡°How well did you know Trish Keller?¡±


    ¡°Better than you,¡± she snapped, but it was apparent she was already losing steam. The girl sucked her drink through a little red straw and tried to act casual. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m investigating her death.¡±


    ¡°You a cop?¡± She looked me up and down, then sneered. ¡°You don¡¯t look like a cop.¡±


    ¡°And you don¡¯t look very smart, but I¡¯m not rushing to any conclusions there, am I?¡±


    She choked on the next swallow of her drink and sputtered, ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I asked how well you knew Trish.¡±


    ¡°We party together.¡±


    Oh yeah, real besties these two. I bet they had slumber parties and braided each other¡¯s hair while gossiping about all the pre-law hotties. I wondered if she¡¯d known Trish¡¯s last name before I told it to her.


    ¡°Did you see her last night?¡±


    ¡°Sure, she was here for a bit.¡±


    ¡°With anyone?¡±


    ¡°That smoking hot TA from Intro to Medieval Lit.¡±


    ¡°Gabriel Holbrook?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, Mr. Holbrook.¡±


    It felt bizarre to hear Gabriel referred to as Mr. Holbrook, as if he was someone in a position of authority. The only times I¡¯d heard him referred to as Mr. Holbrook were when bill collectors called the apartment. Or at the police station earlier tonight.


    ¡°Did they leave together?¡±


    ¡°I guess.¡± She sipped her drink again, none of her former bluster in her words. ¡°I mean, she left after he got thrown out.¡±


    I was glad I didn¡¯t have a mouthful of Guinness right then because I might have spit it out all over her. ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, he got into a fight with some guy, and they both got kicked out. I didn¡¯t see Trish after that.¡±


    ¡°Do you know who he got into a fight with?¡±


    ¡°I just said, didn¡¯t I? Some guy.¡± She rolled her eyes at me like I was the stupid one.


    ¡°How remarkably helpful.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re welcome.¡± She was distracted now and waved to someone on the other side of the room. ¡°Thanks for the drink,¡± she added, raising her glass and tapping it against my beer. ¡°See you in Anthro.¡± Then she teetered off, shrieking, to go hug some mammoth guy in an NYU hoodie.


    Okay, so she was clearly drunk off her ass. Did that mean everything she told me was pure fantasy? She¡¯d confirmed Trish had been here with Gabriel, but maybe she was remembering a different night. And Gabriel hadn¡¯t mentioned anything about a fight to the cops. Why would he leave out a detail that would be so easy to confirm?


    The bartender returned, grumbling about idiot kids, and I slid the photos across the bar to him. He took a look at both, then slid the photo of Lucy back to me. ¡°Never seen her before, looks like a sweet girl, probably too nice for a scene like this, you know? This one though¡­¡± He turned the photo of Trish towards me, like I¡¯d never seen it before. ¡°If we had a frequent-buyer card, she¡¯d be first in line to get one. Trouble with a capital T.¡± Trish smiled out from the picture, oblivious to how her reputation was being sullied postmortem.


    ¡°Someone told me her boyfriend¡­¡± the word gave me pause, ¡°¡­the guy she was with last night, got thrown out for getting into a fight. Is that true?¡±


    ¡°Two-dollar draft Tuesdays?¡± He snorted. ¡°Lots of fights happen on Tuesdays, sweetheart.¡±


    I kicked myself for not thinking to bring a picture of Gabriel with me. ¡°Thanks for all your help.¡± I put a twenty on top of my empty shot glass and left.


    Two bars and too many drinks later, I had an interesting mental picture of Trish Keller¡¯s life and absolutely no news about Lucy Renard. The two were polar opposites¡ªone a slutty party girl, the other a bookish introvert. Tomorrow night I was going to check out the campus and ask around in Gabriel¡¯s Medieval Lit class, see if anyone remembered anything about Trish that might be helpful to clearing my ex of the murder charges. I also needed to get into Lucy¡¯s room and snoop around for any indication of where she might have gone.


    Guess the little home-schooled half-breed from Canada was going to university after all.


    Chapter Twelve


    Lucas¡¯s town car was parked in front of my apartment building when I got home.


    ¡°Awesome,¡± I grumbled. I¡¯d been so dead set on putting my personal life on the back burner, I¡¯d forgotten my personal life sometimes had a mind of its own.


    Dominick was waiting on the landing outside my door, texting someone, looking generally bored. He knew as well as I did that the wards on my apartment kept most of the mean and nasty things away. They did not detract ghosts. Or uninvited werewolf kings, apparently.


    ¡°You could have waited inside, you know.¡±


    ¡°That sort of prevents me from guarding the entrance.¡±


    ¡°Suit yourself.¡± I went to grab my keys, but it occurred to me that was probably unnecessary since Lucas had already let himself in. ¡°Is your brother in there?¡±


    ¡°What do you think?¡± His tone was dark as he pocketed his cell phone. This was not the happy-go-lucky Dominick I was used to.


    ¡°What did I do to piss him off? He knows Lucas and I have the same bond. I thought they understood how this whole mess worked.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but I don¡¯t think he was expecting you to pick Lucas.¡±


    ¡°What? What the hell are you talking about? I didn¡¯t pick anybody.¡±


    Dominick looked baffled by my response, and his former anger fizzled. He reached out to brush my hair aside. Everything kept coming back to this stupid, goddamn hickey. He was about to say something when my front door jerked open, and Lucas filled the frame with unusual menace.


    ¡°I think you¡¯ve said just about enough,¡± he told Dominick.


    To the bodyguard¡¯s credit, he didn¡¯t balk under the withering glare. ¡°I don¡¯t think you have said nearly enough.¡±


    Lucas scowled and stepped out of the doorframe, giving me space to pass. How nice of him to give me access to my own fucking apartment. The second he closed the door I was standing in front of him with a finger jammed into his chest and a serious itch to go for my gun.


    ¡°You have a lot of explaining to do.¡±


    ¡°That seems like a common theme with us.¡± He ignored my phalangeal assault and guided me towards the couch. I didn¡¯t feel much like being guided, but it would have been stupid to have our conversation standing up, so I moved across the room and intentionally sat on the armchair instead of the loveseat.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s the deal with this?¡± I pushed my curls over my shoulder to show him my neck. ¡°It isn¡¯t healing, and it¡¯s freaking everyone out.¡±


    His eyes flicked to the fist-shaped hole in my hallway wall. ¡°Apparently.¡±


    ¡°Either tell me what¡¯s going on or get out. I¡¯m not in the mood for cryptic werewolf bullshit tonight. And I¡¯m minus one Queen¡¯s Guard thanks to you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll talk to Desmond.¡±


    ¡°And tell him what?¡±


    ¡°That you and I are mated.¡±


    ¡°Right. Soul-bonded. I¡¯m pretty sure he knows that,¡± I said sarcastically.


    ¡°No, Secret. Not soul-bonded. Mated.¡±


    My hand flew to the mark on my neck, and I thought about how it had felt when he¡¯d bitten me. The electricity, the fire filling me up until I brimmed over. It hadn¡¯t just been lust. It had been magic.


    ¡°What the fuck did you do to me?¡±


    ¡°I asked you to let me do something, to trust me, and you did.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting to be mate-raped,¡± I yelled, hurling a pillow at him.


    He caught the pillow and set it down, looking far too calm, though he did flinch when I used the word rape. ¡°You¡¯re overreacting. If you¡¯ll calm down and stop throwing things, I will explain.¡±


    The next things I¡¯d start throwing were weapons, and the broadsword mounted on my wall was looking mighty inviting right then. I was sick and tired of Lucas behaving like my naivete about werewolf culture and ritual gave him the right to act on my behalf. I wasn¡¯t a child, and I wasn¡¯t his pawn.


    ¡°Start talking.¡±


    He sighed. ¡°The soul-bond is one part in a more complicated process. Werewolves use it to find their mates.¡± The glare I fixed on him must have told him what I was holding back from saying out loud, that I already knew this part. ¡°But true mating is a different thing altogether.¡±


    I grabbed another pillow and hugged it to my chest. Taking a weapon off the wall would be too obvious, but if there was a way to beat him to death with fabric and feathers, I would find it. And if he danced around the point of this conversation with a long, drawn-out explanation, I would find a way to make it really painful.


    ¡°Long story short,¡± I warned him.


    Lucas shot me a look, one that might have made lesser wolves cower. I simply returned it in kind. ¡°I sealed our mate bond when I bit you. I took in part of your essence and fed you part of mine. We are one now.¡±


    ¡°If we¡¯re so bonded, why can¡¯t I taste you anymore?¡±


    ¡°Because the side effects of the bond are no longer necessary. Now that we are truly mated we don¡¯t need the soul-bond. It has done its job.¡±


    ¡°And the mark?¡± I prodded the bruise on my neck.


    ¡°It will heal. It¡¯s a sign of the completed mating. Once it¡¯s gone, people will recognize my power in you. The other wolves in our pack and in others will finally see you as their queen.¡±

 Page 14

    I got to my feet and put the pillow down, then tracked across the room. Lucas seemed to think I was coming towards him, because he opened his arms as if to embrace me. I pushed his arm aside and brushed past him, then stood by the door.


    ¡°If we are one, can you tell what I¡¯m feeling?¡±


    ¡°When the emotions are strong, yes.¡±


    I jerked the door open. ¡°Then you know why I¡¯m telling you to get the fuck out.¡±


    ¡°Secret¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, don¡¯t Secret me. Don¡¯t condescend. Don¡¯t stand here like you care that I¡¯m mad. You did this without asking me, because you knew it would benefit you, and now you¡¯re going to pretend to be apologetic?¡±


    He said nothing.


    ¡°Answer me one thing,¡± I said.


    ¡°Anything.¡±


    ¡°Would you do it again, knowing how mad I am now?¡±


    Lucas opened his mouth, then shut it and looked down at the floor. I had my answer. ¡°I did what I had to do. We need to be a united front or it all falls¡ª¡±


    ¡°Get out.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, Lucas. This time I have the last word, and you don¡¯t get to do anything about it.¡± I shoved him out the door and locked it behind him.


    When I woke the next night, Desmond still wasn¡¯t home, but it was obvious he¡¯d been in the apartment. Several of his shirts were missing, and his toothbrush was gone from the bathroom. Each space that had once held something of his felt like a hole punctured in my heart. I¡¯d called him a dozen times, but he never answered, and I couldn¡¯t figure out how to tell him what I needed to on a thirty-second voicemail message. I¡¯d asked him to call me back, but he hadn¡¯t.


    Dressing quickly, I pulled on a cowl-neck angora sweater in a purple-gray¡ªthe color of Desmond¡¯s eyes¡ªand a pair of jeans. I wasn¡¯t expecting to get bloody tonight, and I wanted to look like a typical coed.


    As I reached for a pair of earrings on the nightstand, I noticed the sheets on the opposite side of the bed were indented, like he¡¯d stopped to lie down beside me when he¡¯d come to gather his things. I sniffed the sheets, and the smell of Desmond was like a fingerprint, unique and obvious. I smoothed the cotton under my hand and sat on the impression of his body.


    I wanted him to come home.


    My cell phone rang and I lunged for it, not bothering with the caller ID screen. ¡°Desmond?¡±


    ¡°Did you lose your dog?¡± Holden asked.


    I bristled. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m standing on your landing looking at a lovely bouquet of roses that are on the verge of wilting in the cold. Why don¡¯t you let us in?¡±


    I went to the door and jerked it open. Holden was holding out the vase containing two-dozen long-stemmed red roses and a card. I didn¡¯t need to open it; I recognized Lucas¡¯s handwriting. Taking the vase from Holden, I brushed past him and out onto the street in my bare feet, where I threw the vase and the flowers into the garbage bin in front of my building, then returned to the apartment as if nothing had happened.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± I asked again.


    ¡°I¡¯m here to help you find Lucy.¡±


    Incredulity must have shown on my face, because he shrugged. ¡°Rebecca asked me to.¡±


    ¡°Rebecca ordered you to.¡±


    ¡°Semantics.¡±


    ¡°You know I could just as easily order you to go away.¡±


    ¡°You could. But you won¡¯t.¡± He wasn¡¯t paying much attention to me and was wandering the apartment instead, looking in every room. ¡°Where is your wolf?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Trouble in paradise?¡± Holden smiled, and there was something menacing about it. He was a little too happy to discover I was on the outs with my live-in lover.


    ¡°It¡¯s none of your business.¡±


    He stepped closer. Too close. My breath hitched, and I ducked away from him.


    ¡°I think it is my business,¡± he whispered. ¡°Even if you don¡¯t want to admit it.¡±


    ¡°Now isn¡¯t the time.¡± I pulled my jacket on and slipped a pair of old Converse sneakers on.


    Holden stopped in front of me. In a movement faster than a heartbeat, his head dipped to my neck, and I could feel his breath cool and even over the mark on my neck. His tongue slid out, and the moment it touched my skin I shuddered violently. He pulled back and cupped my chin in his hand, his coffee-colored gaze boring into me.


    ¡°You let someone mark you.¡±


    I tried to smack his hand away, but he held firm, reminding me he was stronger than I was. ¡°I didn¡¯t let anyone do anything.¡±


    ¡°And yet.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a long story.¡±


    ¡°Good thing we have a long walk to Columbia then, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Chapter Thirteen


    Over the next half hour I did nothing to improve Holden¡¯s opinion of werewolves.


    ¡°You should have him killed. Sig would do it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to have him killed, you idiot. He thought he was doing the right thing.¡±


    ¡°By forcing you into a union you didn¡¯t want?¡±


    ¡°God, Holden, it¡¯s not like he tricked me into marrying him.¡±


    ¡°No, marriage can be ended in divorce. This is metaphysical. Those kinds of bonds are not so easy to break.¡± He sounded so aggrieved by Lucas¡¯s actions he seemed to forget he wasn¡¯t so innocent himself when it came to this sort of thing.


    ¡°Yeah, it really sucks when someone takes advantage of a metaphysical connection and uses it to violate your trust, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    He looked hurt. ¡°That¡¯s not the same. I needed your help to save my life.¡± I had brought up an unusual and invasive moment in our past when he¡¯d used a bond between us to sneak into my dreams. He hadn¡¯t done it since, but it wasn¡¯t the kind of thing that was easy to forget.


    ¡°And Lucas did this because he thought it was necessary to protect his pack. You¡¯re not as different from the wolves as you¡¯d like to think.¡±


    ¡°Why are you defending what he did?¡±


    In truth, I hated that I understood Lucas¡¯s motivation as well as I did. It proved he really was a part of me now, inside my head and heart, making me more empathetic to his actions. ¡°I¡¯m not saying what he did is right. I guess I just understand the logic. However flawed it might be.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t care that he¡¯s using you,¡± Holden said, giving me a sad look he¡¯d honed to perfection over several centuries. That look must be a real panty-melter for women who loved doe-eyed poets.


    We were standing in front of an old brick building, a trickle of brave students moving down the paths in groups, trying to get from one building to the next without freezing to death. Holden and I wore no hats or scarves, and our jackets and gloves were more about comfort than actual necessity. Still, it was impossible to miss the cold space between us.


    ¡°He might be using me. But it¡¯s not like he¡¯d be the first.¡±


    Lucy Renard¡¯s dorm room wasn¡¯t anything like I imagined a young woman¡¯s dorm room to be. Her space was neat as a pin, everything in its place, and I bet if I lifted the edge of her comforter, the sheets would be tucked in with pristine hospital corners.


    If Lucy had run off on some impromptu vacation, she wasn¡¯t a very gifted packer. The room¡¯s closet was divided in half, and each section had been labeled, one for Lucy and one for her roommate Katie. Katie¡¯s side was more how I pictured most rooms on campus to be¡ªa big heap of wrinkled clothing stacked up with no rhyme or reason.


    Lucy¡¯s side put the shelves at Bergdorf to shame. The clothes were hung according to color, and the hangers were evenly spaced. Everything looked ironed, and tucked into the top shelf was one of those plastic boards people used to fold their shirts into perfect little rectangles. Her shoes were neatly sorted in what appeared to be the most used at the front and special occasion at the back.


    Her toiletries were still in their cubby at the top of the closet, and there was only one pair of shoes missing.


    ¡°How old was this girl?¡± Holden asked, startling me. I¡¯d forgotten he was there.


    ¡°Eighteen.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever seen an eighteen-year-old this¡­meticulous?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anyone this meticulous.¡±


    On her desk was an alphabetized stack of folders, one for each class, but they only held old assignments, nothing to indicate any sort of sinister plot against Lucy. I fired up her laptop and was delighted to find that her webmail stored her password for her.


    Mom. Re: Valentine¡¯s Day Card. Boring.


    Andy B. Next Tuesday! I opened that one. It was just a message from a classmate asking if she was going to be at the bar next week. Lucy hadn¡¯t replied.


    G.H. Seminar Selections. G.H.? I clicked on the link, hoping it was a coincidence.


    Lucy,


    Professor Mayhew mentioned you wanted to do your presentation on Spencer¡¯s The Faerie Queene. Several other students have expressed an interest in this same poem. Why don¡¯t you come by my office on Friday, and we can discuss some other options?


    Sincerely,


    G. Holbrook


    ¡°Son of a bitch.¡± I slapped the laptop shut and scrubbed my face with my hands. So Gabriel knew Lucy. And he¡¯d asked to meet with her roughly the same time she¡¯d gone missing. Then he¡¯d gotten accused of murdering another girl who happened to be in the same literature class as Lucy. I was all for minor coincidences, but this stunk to high heaven.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Do you ever get the distinct impression you¡¯re being played?¡±


    He arched a brow and looked at the closed laptop. ¡°Did you find something?¡±


    ¡°No. Nothing yet. But I have about twenty minutes to make it to Lucy¡¯s Medieval Literature class.¡±


    Medieval Literature was an evening class held in one of the older humanities buildings on the Columbia campus. The room was small, only holding enough seats for about fifty students, and the whole place smelled of dust and stale coffee.

 Page 15

    I¡¯d left Holden in the library, figuring a permanently early-thirties vampire would stick out like a sore thumb in a third-year English class. I had no idea how right I was until I got there. The room was filled to capacity, and in spite of knowing two students were missing, I had difficulty getting a seat.


    I slid into an empty desk near the back of the classroom and took stock of my surroundings. Every seat was filled with a young, pretty girl. I looked around twice, but my search was fruitless. There wasn¡¯t a single male in the entire room. It was like a midnight screening for a new Sex and the City movie.


    The smell of estrogen and desire was thick in the air, not exactly what I was expecting to smell coming off these girls at seven thirty in the evening. At first I thought maybe Gabriel was the reason they were all here. A smart, handsome guy offering to help them decipher ye olde English? I could appreciate the draw.


    Then the professor came in, and the entire room let out a collective, feminine sigh of approval.


    From the reaction, I expected some Daniel Craig lookalike with a piercing gaze and an ovary-exploding accent. Professor Mayhew was not at all what I¡¯d envisioned.


    He was short, for starters, maybe five-foot-eight or five-foot-nine. He was about fifty, judging by the creases wrinkling his forehead and deepening the frown lines around his mouth. His eyes were gray, an unsettling stormy color that peeked out from hooded lids but was alight with some sort of spark I couldn¡¯t pinpoint. Once-dark hair was peppered with silver and had been hastily swept back but was already falling forward and obscuring his vision. There was a slight limp in his step as he walked.


    A sex god, this man was not.


    Then he spoke. ¡°¡®Allo, loves. I trust we¡¯ve all done the readings from Chaucer?¡± His accent wasn¡¯t upper-class British, but it wasn¡¯t a street urchin¡¯s slang either. Holden had tried to teach me the differences once, but I was having trouble pinpointing it. Whatever the origin, it made the inside of my body feel like melting butter on a stack of fresh pancakes.


    Lusty little sighs erupted all over the room.


    When no one replied to his question, he grinned like a rogue from a bodice-ripping historical romance and took a worn leather volume out of his bag.


    ¡°No?¡± he asked. ¡°Then I suppose I¡¯ll have to read it to you, shall I?¡±


    Chapter Fourteen


    Two hours later I waited as dozens of girls filed out of the classroom. Three still lurked around Mayhew¡¯s lectern, twirling their hair and giggling while they asked questions about papers and the deeper meaning of ¡°A Knight¡¯s Tale¡±. I was willing to bet most of them still thought about Heath Ledger whenever they discussed the finer points of Chaucer, but I wasn¡¯t in a position to judge. Before tonight I¡¯d never given a thought to The Canterbury Tales, let alone an in-depth analysis.


    When I¡¯d lived with Gabriel, he¡¯d been nuts for all the old authors¡ªChaucer, Edmund Spencer, Goethe. He¡¯d bought me a beautiful antique edition of Shakespeare¡¯s sonnets for Valentine¡¯s Day one year. Romantic, right?


    I¡¯d read one poem and left it to collect dust on a shelf.


    I do remember something about love not being love when it demands someone to change. That could have been a motto for my relationship with Gabriel. Seemed like it also applied to my relationship with Lucas.


    Pulling out my phone, I hoped to see a missed call from Desmond. I only had a text message from Holden saying, Exactly how long does a Medieval Literature class last? The books aren¡¯t going anywhere.


    Leave it to Holden to be cheeky and sarcastic in a text. But at least he used full words. I had a remarkable loathing for people who insisted on using moronic text abbreviations.


    The last of the stragglers left the room, and Mayhew slipped his notes back into the leather briefcase next to his lectern. He seemed to notice me then, for the first time, still sitting in the back row with my Converses propped up on the back of the seat in front of me.


    ¡°Did you have a question for me, love?¡± He leaned against the podium and dipped his head to the side. With his full attention focused on me, I felt a little warmth grow in the pit of my stomach. There was definitely something special about this guy. No wonder all the girls tried to worm their way into his favor.


    Grabbing my purse off the floor, I moved down the steps so I could stand in front of him. Because I was already shorter than him, and wearing flat shoes, he still looked down on me in spite of being below-average height for a man.


    ¡°My name is¡­¡± I hesitated, wondering if I should make something up. If Gabriel had mentioned me, then Mayhew might question my presence in his classroom. But there wasn¡¯t much sense in lying to this man when I wanted honesty from him. ¡°I¡¯m Secret.¡± Then almost as an afterthought I added, ¡°McQueen.¡±


    ¡°Secret?¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure if his question stemmed from the oddity of my name, or because he recognized it. ¡°The one and only. I hope.¡± I offered him my hand, which he shook firmly.


    ¡°Oliver Mayhew. Though you probably already know that.¡±


    I smiled. ¡°And you probably know I¡¯m not in your class.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°It¡¯s a little late in the year for waitlist, Secret. Are you auditing?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m actually here for a friend of mine.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± He picked up his briefcase but made no other move to leave.


    ¡°Lucy Renard.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± he said, his eyes focusing somewhere over my head. He looked a little guilty, but not in a way I recognized. After a moment he gave me a weak smile and shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t know all my students by name. My TA is a lot better with that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°Gabriel Holbrook?¡±


    Mayhew banged his briefcase against his leg and returned his focus to me. ¡°Oh, do you know Gabe?¡±


    ¡°Not very well. I was actually wondering how well he knew Lucy.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± He chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s not really my place to discuss Gabriel¡¯s personal affairs. But it¡¯s my understanding he¡¯s pretty¡­popular.¡±


    ¡°I bet.¡± In my pocket, my phone vibrated. Probably Holden asking how long I planned to be. The vampire was going to have to wait.


    ¡°Was there a reason you came to my class tonight?¡±


    ¡°Lucy¡¯s¡­away. I wanted to be sure she wasn¡¯t missing anything important.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± He switched his briefcase from one hand to the other and pulled a pocket watch out, flipping it open to check the time. ¡°It¡¯s a bit late, but if you¡¯d like to follow me, I can give you the notes from this week¡¯s class so Miss Renard doesn¡¯t fall behind. This is a third-year class, a lot happens every week, and it can be a time-intensive study responsibility. I hope your friend isn¡¯t planning to miss too many more classes.¡±


    ¡°It remains to be seen.¡±


    Mayhew left the room, and I followed him.


    ¡°Nothing too serious?¡±


    That remains to be seen too, I thought. ¡°No,¡± I answered. ¡°At least I hope not.¡±


    Down a dark corridor, I became aware for the first time it was almost ten o¡¯clock at night and no one else appeared to be in the building anymore. Instinct told me to check my weapons, but pragmatism told me there wasn¡¯t a hell of a lot a limping British professor could do to me.


    He unlocked a door marked with his name and ushered me into a small room. When he turned on the light, I got a better handle on my surroundings. The office was cramped, shelves stacked high with books and his small desk overrun with papers and an ancient-looking desktop computer.


    ¡°Cozy.¡±


    Mayhew chuckled. ¡°I don¡¯t spend much time in here.¡± Sidling behind the desk, he started rifling through the paper towers. If there was a system to how they were organized, a maniac must have been the one to establish it. Mayhew was that maniac, as it turned out, because he found the stapled sheaf of papers he¡¯d been looking for and handed them to me with an apologetic smile.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, stuffing the notes in my purse. I wished I¡¯d come better prepared, with at least a notebook or a proper school bag, but I didn¡¯t own either.


    He smiled and patted his pockets as he scanned his desk, then let his arms drop, shrugging to himself over some internal thought he was processing. When he rounded the desk and stood in front of me, it took all my will not to move away from him.


    My phone vibrated, making me jerk in surprise. Mayhew didn¡¯t seem to notice. He held out his hand again, and although I felt another handshake was a bit much, I didn¡¯t want him to think me rude, especially not after he¡¯d been gracious enough to give me notes for Lucy.


    I shook his hand, appreciating the firmness of his grip. He clasped his other hand on the back of mine, his thumb brushing my knuckles. This was a little too intimate. I tried to pull away, but he showed surprising strength by holding me in place. His hooded eyes, the color of an old sweatshirt, locked on me.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a real pleasure.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I repeated, my hand going limp between his.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome to sit in on my classes whenever you¡¯d like. I mean, until Miss Renard comes back.¡±


    My eyelids flickered, and my limbs felt heavy. It was too early in the night for me to be feeling sleepy, yet I stifled a yawn. Mayhew gave my hand one last squeeze with both of his, then let it fall. My fingers tingled slightly.


    ¡°You have a good night.¡± He smiled, and I couldn¡¯t help but smile back.


    Outside, halfway between the English department and the library, I retrieved my cell phone from my pocket to see what Holden was pestering me about and to tell him I was on my way to meet him. When I flicked open the message screen, I stopped dead in my tracks.


    The first message was from Holden, time stamped before ten, right as I was about to leave with Mayhew. It was the second message that startled me, for two reasons. It was from Desmond, and it said, I¡¯m home. We need to talk.


    The real kicker wasn¡¯t his cold words, though, or that he was back. It was the time I¡¯d received the message. Quarter after eleven. I¡¯d only been in Mayhew¡¯s office for ten minutes, tops.

 Page 16

    Where had an hour of my night gone?


    Chapter Fifteen


    I was afraid to go into my own apartment.


    In the small foyer between the street-level door and my front entrance, I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and twisted my keys around on their little metal hoop. Losing an hour of my night without explanation had made me uneasy. Standing outside my door knowing an angry werewolf was inside wanting to talk was the icing on the cake.


    Now would be a brilliant time for Sig to call and tell me he needed me on some pressing council business.


    Anytime now.


    I pulled out my phone and checked the screen.


    The front door jerked open, and Desmond stood inside the frame. He leaned against one side, looking from me to the phone.


    ¡°How long were you planning to stand out here? I¡¯ve been listening to you breathe for the last ten minutes.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± I didn¡¯t have an answer for him.


    He stepped out of the doorway and crossed the room to sit on the loveseat. I tried not to take it as a positive sign he¡¯d chosen to sit there instead of on the armchair. I shucked off my Converses and sat next to him. Just a normal, average couple sitting down in front of the TV after a long night. Only our TV was off, and we were so far removed from normal it wasn¡¯t even funny.


    ¡°Did you talk to Lucas?¡± I asked, hesitant to mention the L-word after Desmond¡¯s outburst the other night.


    He ground his teeth together and wouldn¡¯t meet my gaze. ¡°Before or after I punched him?¡±


    My mouth gaped. Desmond was Lucas¡¯s second-in-command, his right-hand man, the Chewie to his Han Solo. I don¡¯t think I¡¯d ever heard of a time when they¡¯d come to blows over something. Now something had, and it was my fault.


    Desmond shifted in his seat and looked me in the eyes. His expression was drawn and tired, none of the sweet, cheery man I loved so much.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know,¡± I told him.


    He sighed. ¡°He explained that much to me. It¡¯s the only reason I¡¯m here right now. But this is a big deal. You understand that, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Can we talk about it?¡± I took his hand in mine, and he didn¡¯t pull away. ¡°I know you¡¯re upset. Dominick told me the mark¡­well, he said it made it look like I was picking Lucas over you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a mate mark. It shows everyone you picked him over me.¡±


    ¡°And you thought I would do that without talking to you first?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s be honest here, Secret. A lot of what¡¯s happened since you met us has been done without us consulting you. We kidnapped you. Lucas had you brought home against your will. Even my living with you¡­it wasn¡¯t your choice.¡±


    ¡°Not at the time.¡± I squeezed his hand to bring his attention back. He¡¯d started to stare at the wall again. ¡°But that was ages ago, Desmond. I love having you here. I love you.¡±


    ¡°More than you love him?¡±


    I didn¡¯t have to think about it. ¡°Yes.¡±


    I don¡¯t think he expected that. He stared at me and said, ¡°Say it again.¡±


    ¡°I love you more than I love Lucas.¡± The moment I said the words, I knew how true they were. ¡°I do care for him, don¡¯t misunderstand me. But I¡¯d love you even if there were no soul-bond. If I ever lost you, I¡¯d die.¡±


    Desmond didn¡¯t say anything. He pulled me closer using my own grip on his hands and wrapped an arm around my back. I lay against him, my cheek on his chest, languishing in the familiar scent of him and the taste of citrus he left in my mouth. The rise and fall of his breathing made me feel comforted for the first time all week.


    ¡°He needs me,¡± I whispered after a long silence.


    ¡°That¡¯s what he said after I decked him.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s the risk of an uprising in the south. He needs to show a united front, and that means he needs a mate who isn¡¯t¡­¡± I sighed, not sure what else to say. Honestly, Lucas should have a mate who was nothing like me. He needed someone obedient and flexible. The more time the wolf king spent trying to make me fit the mold of the queen he wanted, the less it resembled me.


    ¡°We never thought it would be this hard,¡± Desmond admitted. ¡°We always knew the soul-bond was going to be an issue, because of how it connected me to him. When we met you, I figured you¡¯d be with him and that would be that. There was no way for us to see it going like this.¡± He stroked my hair and kicked his legs up on the couch so I was lying on top of him.


    ¡°You guys really believed you could share?¡±


    ¡°I never thought we¡¯d have to. But after the first night you and I were together, Lucas figured that was how it was going to be. He¡¯d turn the other cheek while you and I carried on a physical relationship, and he¡¯d still get to have you as his mate.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that what¡¯s happening right now?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s different, though. Because I love you and you love me. We never realized how much human emotion would fuck this whole thing up. It¡¯s hard to be analytical when you¡¯re in love.¡±


    I had to laugh. ¡°Do you think this has any hope in hell of working? Me being his queen but loving you?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s uncharted territory.¡± Desmond tipped my chin up so I was looking at him. ¡°I¡¯m not happy about what he did. There was a risk that when he mated you, it would nullify my bond with you. He didn¡¯t seem to take that into consideration when he forced the connection on you.¡±


    ¡°Lucas does a lot of things without thinking about the consequences.¡±


    Desmond kissed my forehead. ¡°He¡¯s my king, and it¡¯s my duty to abide by his decisions. But if he does something this stupid again, to jeopardize what you and I have?¡± I let my head fall again so I didn¡¯t have to see the sheen of anger painting his face. ¡°I¡¯ll¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say it.¡± I wasn¡¯t sure how treason worked in the werewolf world, but I didn¡¯t need Desmond putting himself at that kind of risk because of something Lucas had done to me. I pushed myself up so my arms were braced on either side of his chest and I was staring him in the eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to him.¡±


    ¡°Secret¡­¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine.¡± The blue clock on our DVD player said it was only twelve thirty. Plenty of time to meet up with Lucas at the penthouse and be back before sunrise. ¡°I think I need to have a chat with him, anyway. I wasn¡¯t exactly rational when I found out what he¡¯d done.¡±


    ¡°Rationality isn¡¯t your middle name.¡±


    ¡°No. But that makes two of us, Mr. Punches-Holes-in-the-Wall.¡±


    He twisted a lock of my hair around his fingers. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. There¡¯s no excuse for how I reacted. But you have to know I would never, never have hit you.¡±


    ¡°The thought never crossed my mind.¡± It hadn¡¯t, honestly. Even when Desmond was dismantling the drywall with his bare hands, I didn¡¯t think he wanted it to be my face instead. He¡¯d been raised by a strong woman and had shown nothing but respect for women the entire time I¡¯d known him. A violent outburst didn¡¯t say great things about his self-control, but I¡¯d never worried he¡¯d lash out at me. ¡°Besides, if you did, I¡¯d break both your arms.¡±


    Desmond laughed and kissed me, sweet and almost chaste by the standards of our usual kisses. ¡°I know you would.¡±


    I got to Rain Hotel twenty minutes later, shared a terse nod with Melvin the night concierge, and ducked into the elevator before he had a chance to give me his two cents on anything. Melvin, a were-ferret, was always a little too interested in the comings and goings of Lucas¡¯s business. I didn¡¯t trust him.


    The elevator let me out on the first floor of Lucas¡¯s three-floor penthouse, and unless he was working on something in the office, I doubted I¡¯d find him here. His bedroom was on the second floor along with the guest suites and Desmond¡¯s old residence. The top floor was split between the big lounge area and a massive outdoor patio with an infinity pool looking over the view uptown.


    Seeing as it was February he wouldn¡¯t be at the pool, and I didn¡¯t particularly want to check his giant bedroom first. I climbed the stairs to the third floor and stepped into the lounge.


    Considering how recently I¡¯d experienced such intense pleasure in this same room, the sense of dread I felt upon entering wasn¡¯t the most standard reaction. Lucas sat on the sofa, his head leaned back and his eyes closed. After the long months of our courtship, I could recognize the signs of stress in his countenance. The fact I could recognize stress better than any other emotion told me Lucas and I needed to have a serious discussion about our relationship.


    Which was, after all, the reason I had come.


    I cleared my throat, and he snapped to attention, his eyes wide and body tense. He was ready to launch himself across the room at a moment¡¯s notice if need be. Were he in his wolf form, his ears would have been pinned back and his lips curled in a snarl. As a man, he eyed me warily and didn¡¯t let his tension ease when he realized it was me.


    We were off to a good start.


    I couldn¡¯t blame him for his posture. The way I¡¯d reacted to him during our last conversation was enough to make any man uneasy about his personal safety. I had that effect on people. I just wished it wasn¡¯t on the people I cared about.


    ¡°I come in peace,¡± I offered. ¡°I want to talk.¡±


    His eyelids sagged, and the weariness he¡¯d been hiding leaked to the surface. Lucas was exhausted. ¡°Are you planning to talk with your fists? Because that was Desmond¡¯s opening line too.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m more of a nonviolent negotiator.¡± I crossed the room and sat cross-legged on the big ottoman in front of him, about six inches out of his reach.


    In response to my words, he let out a snort, then chuckled. ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°Okay, so I¡¯m not usually big on talking it out, I realize that, but I think we need to discuss what¡¯s going on here.¡±


    ¡°And what exactly is that?¡± he asked.

 Page 17

    ¡°That you keep pushing me when you know I¡¯m not ready.¡±


    He scooted backwards on the couch and looked up at the ceiling instead of directly at me. Always a great start for open communication. Why I thought supernatural men would be better at talking things out than normal human men was beyond me. If anything, they were more stubborn and pigheaded. And that was saying something.


    ¡°I¡¯ve tried to explain what I need from you.¡±


    ¡°No, you don¡¯t. You act and then explain why you¡¯ve done whatever moronic thing you¡¯ve done and expect me to be overjoyed about it. Do you think I like having this same conversation over and over?¡±


    ¡°Probably about as much as I like to hear it.¡±


    I huffed. ¡°I talked things out with Desmond. He won¡¯t be coming over to punch you in the face again anytime soon.¡±


    Lucas forced a smile, but it didn¡¯t reach his eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t want to fight with you.¡±


    ¡°Neither do I. I¡¯m just trying to figure out a way for us to stop butting heads over everything. There has to be a solution that will keep us from constantly being at each other¡¯s throats.¡±


    ¡°I can think of one,¡± a terse female voice said from the entrance to the lounge.


    Lucas looked past me and bit back a grimace, but I saw the line of worry cross his face before he was able to hide it. I knew the voice, so it made me wonder at his reaction. To confirm my suspicions, I cast a glance over my shoulder to see who had interrupted our discussion.


    ¡°Morgan,¡± I said.


    ¡°Secret.¡± She jerked her chin at me by way of greeting. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she didn¡¯t look thrilled to see me. That made the feeling mutual.


    Morgan Scott wasn¡¯t a woman I would qualify as beautiful, not in the standard interpretation of it, anyway. Her features were too strong to be considered feminine, and she had a brusque demeanor that didn¡¯t make her a cuddly personality. Her eyes were huge, and if she¡¯d known how to properly use her looks to an advantage, she could play the role of innocent girl next door to a T. But combined with her broad nose and a too-small mouth that never smiled, she looked more like a pissed-off Victorian doll than anything else.


    Right now that doll-like face was turned towards me, and she hadn¡¯t picked tonight to start smiling.


    ¡°Did you need something, Morgan?¡± I asked when the silence stretched into the awkward zone.


    ¡°Did you?¡±


    My body went tense, ready to launch across the room at her. It wasn¡¯t just that she was being unbelievably rude, but given my position in the pack, she was well out of line. No wolf in their right mind would speak to someone of a higher rank the way she was speaking to me. And ranks didn¡¯t get much higher than mine in Lucas¡¯s pack. Just because she had taken over some of Desmond¡¯s duties didn¡¯t make her Lucas¡¯s second, and it sure as hell didn¡¯t give her the right to disrespect me.


    ¡°Morgan,¡± Lucas barked, rising to his feet. He could have said more, given her a verbal beat-down, but he didn¡¯t need to. As king he was capable of projecting his discontent with nothing more than a tone of voice and a hard look.


    Morgan looked properly cowed. She dipped her head in my direction and let her arms fall to her sides. It didn¡¯t keep me from glaring at her, but it did stop me from punching her in the head.


    ¡°My apologies,¡± she said, her gaze directed at the floor. ¡°It wasn¡¯t my intention to overstep.¡±


    Like hell it wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°What did you need, Morgan?¡± Lucas asked, his tone still cool.


    ¡°I was just going to see if you needed me for anything else tonight before I left.¡±


    ¡°No, I think you¡¯ve done enough for the night.¡±


    She turned to leave, but I couldn¡¯t help myself. ¡°What was your suggestion?¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡± She turned and met my gaze, caught herself and looked at the ottoman instead.


    ¡°When you came in, you said you could think of a solution for Lucas and I constantly fighting. I¡¯m dying to know what it is.¡±


    Lucas moved closer to me and put a hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. To the uninitiated, it might seem like he was offering me comfort. But something inside me understood the message within his simple touch. It was a warning.


    ¡°No. Nothing like that. I was being a smartass, I¡¯m sorry.¡± The flush in her cheeks and her raised pulse told me she was nervous, and a big part of me was happy I¡¯d managed to unsettle her.


    ¡°Good night,¡± Lucas said, dismissing her as curtly as he¡¯d reprimanded her.


    Morgan opened her mouth like she had something else she wanted to say. Looking up, she must have seen something on Lucas¡¯s face that made her think better of it. If the white-knuckled grip he had on my shoulder was any indication of what was going on in his expression, it was a wonder she was still standing and hadn¡¯t fallen into a bow.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± she said again, then bolted from the room.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like her,¡± I announced.


    ¡°She¡¯s a strong leader within the pack, she¡¯s loyal and she¡¯s smart.¡±


    ¡°You and I have different definitions of smart.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not new.¡±


    I wrenched my shoulder out of his grasp and rotated it to loosen the tight discomfort he¡¯d created. ¡°I want to talk about our issues, but first things first, I think you need to tell me everything you know about this mate bond.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that easy to explain.¡±


    ¡°Will it help me understand why you can tell me what you¡¯re thinking just by touching me? ¡®Cause that¡¯s a new development.¡± I was looking at him again, and I¡¯d never seen a werewolf get paler than a vampire. I was on to something.


    Finally he let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the sofa.


    ¡°It¡¯s complicated,¡± he began, and I got a strange sense of deja vu.


    ¡°Then you¡¯d best start talking.¡±


    Chapter Sixteen


    Two hours later I was standing in front of Rain Hotel with Lucas, wondering how it was possible for me to miss the good old days where all I had to worry about was my two-way soul-bond.


    And I thought my one-hour memory gap from Columbia was going to be the most messed-up part of the night.


    He was keeping a safe distance from me on the sidewalk while we waited for Dominick to come around with the car. I think Lucas was worried I was going to punch him. But the weirdest part of the whole night was how little anger I now felt towards him. In spite of how upset I¡¯d been about him forcing the mate connection on me, all I felt now was empathy.


    I knew why Lucas had done what he¡¯d done, and I couldn¡¯t find it in myself to begrudge him for it.


    The air was cold and smelled clean, with lingering scents of the salt used to keep the sidewalks from getting too slippery and the flour-and-sugar smell of a nearby bakery preparing for the morning rush.


    Lucas edged closer, still hesitant to touch me, and crossed his arms over his broad chest. In spite of the cold February air, he hadn¡¯t bothered to put on a jacket before we came downstairs.


    ¡°There¡¯s something else I need to talk to you about,¡± he said.


    I turned away from the nearly empty street and watched him. He was nervous, dancing from foot to foot. I found it endearing I could put him so out of sorts. After all, he was a king, and yet sometimes he still acted like a shy teenager when he was around me. It was equal parts flattering and frustrating.


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°Earlier this evening, I called your uncle.¡±


    My spine got so rigid it might as well have turned to a pillar of stone. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°He and I needed to discuss the situation down south, and I want to see if it can be resolved peacefully. Callum isn¡¯t a stupid man, and anything he can do to stave off an all-out war is in his best interests as well as mine.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to negotiate with him over the territory?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s sending two delegates up this weekend. The plan is to negotiate his withdrawal from our territory.¡±


    I hugged my jacket tight around me and turned my attention back to the street. Where the hell was Dominick? ¡°Did you force the mate bond because you needed to show a unified front to the delegates?¡±


    When he didn¡¯t respond right away, I swiveled my head around, and the look on his face told me everything. He had deliberately made me his mate so he wouldn¡¯t look weak to my uncle¡¯s men.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you say so, Lucas?¡± I stuffed my hands in my pockets and tilted my head back, looking up at the bright, beautiful lights of the New York skyline mixed with the icy white curve of the moon. ¡°You say I¡¯m the pack protector, but when a situation arises where I can actually prove myself, you don¡¯t have enough faith in me to let me make the decision myself.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, listen to me, please.¡± My tone was soft, not demanding. I didn¡¯t want to start a fight with him, but I needed him to hear me out. ¡°I don¡¯t want the East Coast packs to belong to the McQueens anymore than you do. Even though they¡¯re technically my blood kin, my loyalty is to you. To your pack.¡±


    ¡°Our pack,¡± he corrected.


    ¡°If you want it to be our pack, you need to trust me with these decisions.¡±


    ¡°Then I need to tell you something, and I need you to not get mad about it because it¡¯s just me being honest.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t promise I won¡¯t be mad. Given your past behavior it would be a pretty stupid promise for me to make.¡± I tried to laugh, but his wince told me I¡¯d hit below the belt while the wound was still fresh. ¡°Go ahead, tell me. I can at least promise not to hit you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing I¡¯ve done. Yet.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­¡±


    ¡°I need you to understand the pack will always come first. Before my own needs, before my relationship with you, before everything.¡±


    Just what a girl wants to hear: I love you, but I love a bunch of slobbering wolves more. Again, my initial response of annoyance was quashed almost instantly by a swell of empathy. Fucking mate bond, it was going to make it almost impossible to be mad at him. At least when he was able to justify it to himself.

 Page 18

    Removing my hands from my pockets, I closed the distance between us and touched both of his forearms, giving him a gentle squeeze.


    ¡°The only reason you talked to me in the first place was because of the pack. If you hadn¡¯t recognized me as your mate, you never would have included me in all this anyway. I have to respect that your people will always be the most important thing to you.¡± The words of a pack protector and wolf queen, and they were coming out of my own mouth without being forced. Bizarre.


    He leaned forward without uncrossing his arms and kissed my forehead. I was thankful he didn¡¯t try for more. It had been a long, long night, and I wasn¡¯t ready to be pulled into an embrace quite yet.


    ¡°I¡¯ve invited Callum¡¯s delegates to attend the opening of a new business school I donated to Columbia University.¡± The moment he said the name of the school my skin got cold, and an uneasy feeling started to bubble up in my tummy. Why was that name everywhere, lately? ¡°I¡¯d like you to come with me.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s important to me that you be there, so they see you stand with me in all of my decisions, and I¡­ Wait, did you already say yes?¡±


    I patted his cheek, his skin harder than usual due to the coldness in the air. It felt like touching a wax version of Lucas. ¡°You asked, I said yes.¡±


    ¡°No fight? No questions asked? No snarky comments?¡±


    ¡°Come on. Give me a little credit, please.¡±


    He arched a brow at me and repeated, ¡°No snarky comments?¡±


    I sighed. ¡°Fine.¡± Then, with my voice a few octaves higher, in a spot-on impersonation of my vampire ward Brigit, I added, ¡°Did you, like, want me to wear a leash? Or will the diamond-studded collar that says Queen Bitch be enough?¡±


    There was a long silence, then Lucas roared with laughter. He dipped down and gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek and rested his head against mine. ¡°How did I end up with you, Secret?¡±


    ¡°Fate. She¡¯s a tricky mistress.¡±


    Someone cleared their throat, and we noticed Dominick¡¯s arrival for the first time.


    ¡°Pardon the interruption,¡± he said dryly, ¡°but it¡¯s cold as shit out here. Can we go?¡±


    I ducked out of Lucas¡¯s reach and jogged to the passenger side of the car. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said to Lucas as an afterthought.


    ¡°For what?¡± Befuddlement clouded his expression.


    ¡°For making an effort not to be a royal ass.¡±


    ¡°Hey.¡± He shrugged and gave me the coy half-smile he had the night I¡¯d first laid eyes on him. ¡°I¡¯m a work in progress.¡±


    The moment we pulled away from the corner, worry began to gnaw at me. I still hadn¡¯t figured out what had happened to the hour I¡¯d lost at Columbia, and I needed a sounding board to brainstorm the possible explanations with.


    ¡°Dom, what do you know about magic?¡±


    The blond werewolf grunted noncommittally and kept his eyes on the road. ¡°I dunno. Witches do spells. Fae have natural magic. Why?¡±


    ¡°Do you know of any spells that cause memory lapses?¡±


    ¡°No, but shouldn¡¯t you be asking your grandmother this?¡±


    Smartass. Of course I should be asking Grandmere, but I couldn¡¯t do that at four in the morning. She might be a witch, but she was also officially a senior citizen. Dominick had obviously never had to deal with a cranky, sleep-deprived witch when she¡¯d been awakened from a peaceful slumber.


    ¡°Just asking.¡± I fiddled with the car¡¯s heater, lowering the temperature slightly since neither of us needed the heat to be full blast.


    ¡°Penny keeps asking about you,¡± Dominick said, breaking the silence first.


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, apparently a sword-wielding, leather-clad, and I quote ¡®Taylor-Swift-like¡® girlfriend of Desmond¡¯s makes quite the impression on a twelve-year-old.¡±


    It felt good to laugh. Desmond and Dominick¡¯s younger sister, Penny, had been abducted over the Christmas holidays, and after I¡¯d saved her, the Alvarez family had been pretty fond of me. Who knew the easiest way to win over your boyfriend¡¯s family was to save its youngest member from having her brain chewed on by monsters? Penny also had an unnatural obsession with my blonde curls.


    ¡°I should call your mom. She keeps asking me to come for supper.¡±


    ¡°Forget supper, I think Penny wants to take you for show and tell.¡±


    A few more blocks and I felt almost normal again. We fell into another companionable silence, and it was nice to be with someone who didn¡¯t want or need anything from me. My time alone with Dominick always seemed like a gift, because he made me feel as close to human as I ever had. I wasn¡¯t defined by my status as an assassin, a mate, a princess or a Tribunal leader. Nor did I have to present a false version of myself like I did whenever I was with Mercedes. With Dominick I was just a friend.


    ¡°Can I ask you something?¡±


    ¡°You just did,¡± he replied.


    Ignoring his cheekiness, I continued, ¡°Do you ever feel like you got the short end of the stick, somehow? In the pack, I mean?¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°Well, your father was Jeremiah Rain¡¯s lieutenant, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°And now Desmond is Lucas¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡±


    ¡°And you grew up with Lucas, and he¡¯s now your king.¡±


    ¡°He was always going to be my king.¡±


    I¡¯d never thought about it that way. ¡°So it doesn¡¯t bother you that Desmond is in a higher position than you?¡±


    ¡°No. But that¡¯s not really what you¡¯re asking, is it? You want to know if it bugs me that you are in a higher position than me.¡±


    Though it hadn¡¯t been the reason I¡¯d asked initially, I had to admit he was right. I did want to know how the rest of the pack felt about me being so high up in the hierarchy, even though I¡¯d never shifted with them and might never be able to do so.


    ¡°Does it?¡±


    He answered without hesitation. ¡°No, it doesn¡¯t. You¡¯re in the position you earned.¡±


    ¡°Morgan doesn¡¯t seem to think so.¡±


    ¡°Morgan is a bit¡ª¡± He caught himself and stopped. To call a female werewolf a bitch was a huge deal within the pack. Me calling myself one earlier to Lucas wouldn¡¯t be such a big deal because he knew I had a warped sense of humor and a filthy sailor¡¯s mouth. If, on the other hand, Morgan had called me a bitch, it would be a much graver scenario.


    ¡°Don¡¯t hold back on my account.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s loyal and smart,¡± he parroted Lucas¡¯s earlier words.


    ¡°She¡¯s ambitious and cold,¡± I added.


    ¡°And she wants your job,¡± he finished.


    ¡°Yeah, I figured. Is it a common thread among the pack?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°No, Morgan is defying the advice of a lot of other pack members whenever she butts heads with you. For the most part the pack respects you. You did a really brave thing when you killed Marcus Sullivan, and we haven¡¯t forgotten about it.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t it bother them that I¡¯m never around for the full moon ceremonies?¡±


    ¡°Sure, but¡­we can¡¯t really explain the reasons to them.¡±


    No, that was for damned sure. A pack of werewolves wasn¡¯t going to love knowing their leader¡¯s mate was half-undead. Surprise!


    ¡°I¡¯m worried I¡¯m not ever going to belong in the pack,¡± I confessed. ¡°I worry Lucas is pinning all of his hopes on me, and I¡¯m going to screw everything up so badly it can¡¯t be fixed.¡±


    When he didn¡¯t reply, I cast a sideways glance at him. We were stopped at a red light, and he had turned fully in his seat to look at me. ¡°Did you tell him what you just told me?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Did you tell Desmond?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯ve never said that to anyone before.¡±


    Dominick stared at the red light for a moment before he shifted his attention back to me.


    ¡°I get it, you know? The not-belonging thing.¡±


    I snorted. ¡°Right. You come from one of the oldest, most well-respected werewolf families in New York. You were raised in this culture, and you¡¯re inside the king¡¯s inner circle.¡±


    ¡°That last one applies to you too,¡± he reminded me. ¡°Does it make you feel any better?¡±


    ¡°No, not really.¡±


    ¡°The only reason I do belong is because of my family legacy. Part of what it means to be a good pack member is to help carry on the gene pool. Marry another werewolf, make lots of babies, and then hope those babies decide to be Awakened and continue the cycle.¡±


    Make babies. My vision blurred, and I swallowed a lump.


    Dominick continued, unaware of my new discomfort. ¡°Do you know what happens when you can¡¯t oblige the pack in carrying on the lines?¡±


    I didn¡¯t say anything. I didn¡¯t know where this was going, but I hoped he got to the point soon so we could change the topic.


    ¡°You¡¯re shunned. Not anything as serious as an exile, that¡¯s saved for those who actively seek to do harm to the pack. No, being shunned means you¡¯re still a member of the pack, but no longer a part of it.¡±


    That sounded all too familiar to me.


    ¡°How does that apply to you?¡±


    The town car pulled to a stop in front of my apartment block, and Dominick put it into park. He propped one arm behind my headrest and leaned against his door.


    ¡°It¡¯s only a matter of time before the pack realizes I¡¯m not with someone. When I get into my thirties and I¡¯m not married, and I haven¡¯t spawned any new Alvarez babies, they¡¯re going to start asking questions.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Dom, there¡¯s still plenty of time for you to get married. I don¡¯t see how¡ª¡±


    ¡°Even if I do get married, Secret, it just means they¡¯ll figure it out sooner.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re worried you won¡¯t be accepted into the pack because you¡¯re part vampire, right?¡±

 Page 19

    I wished he hadn¡¯t said it out loud, but I nodded in agreement.


    ¡°Well, try being a gay werewolf.¡±


    To say I was stunned would be the understatement of the year. I¡¯d never had any indication Dominick¡¯s interests ran towards other men. With Genevieve, she was so bold about her preference for women it was something I had immediately accepted as being a part of who she was. It wasn¡¯t Dominick¡¯s homosexuality that shocked me; it was how I¡¯d managed to be totally oblivious to it.


    ¡°Wow.¡±


    Dominick grinned and ruffled my hair. ¡°Did I blow your mind a little, McQueen?¡±


    ¡°Little bit.¡±


    ¡°But do you see why it¡¯s so complicated for me?¡±


    ¡°I guess¡­ But in this day and age? I mean, gay marriage is legal in most states now. The pack must be adaptable, right? They can¡¯t shun you over something that isn¡¯t your choice.¡±


    ¡°Being a vampire wasn¡¯t your choice. How forgiving do you think they¡¯d be if they found out?¡±


    Touche.


    ¡°Does Lucas know?¡±


    Dominick shook his head. ¡°Desmond knows. My mom knows. I never told my dad, and that¡¯s probably for the best. He was pretty old school about pack stuff. I would have hated to have him shun me before he died.¡±


    ¡°But your mom?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve met Grace Alvarez, right?¡± he said with a sly smirk. ¡°She doesn¡¯t care who I love, so long as they make me happy and they eat their fair share of pot roast.¡±


    ¡°And¡­is there someone?¡±


    ¡°There might be.¡± His hand gripped the back of my headrest so hard the leather cried out. ¡°But it¡¯s hard to deal with. He¡¯s a good man, but he¡¯s human. It¡¯s bad enough, the lies you have to tell your loved ones when you¡¯re gay. It¡¯s harder still when I have to keep all the werewolf stuff from him.¡± He closed his eyes and pursed his lips together in a tight line.


    ¡°Can we meet him? Me and Desmond, I mean.¡±


    Dominick opened one eye and stared at me, probably trying to judge if I was pulling his leg. ¡°And tell him what? ¡®Hey, Cas, this is my werewolf brother and his girlfriend, Queen of the Damned.¡¯¡±


    I slapped his arm. ¡°I¡¯m not queen of anything. And just tell him the truth. That we¡¯re family and we love you.¡±


    He opened both eyes, and a fine haze of tears shone in them. ¡°You know something, Secret?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°For someone who isn¡¯t human, you¡¯re a hell of a woman.¡±


    Chapter Seventeen


    Desmond shook me lightly, ignoring my muffled protests and threats of violence until I relented and opened my eyes. When he shoved my cell phone in my face, I wished I¡¯d pretended to still be sleeping.


    ¡°Too early,¡± I whined, batting the phone away and covering my head with a pillow.


    Most people would say six in the evening was a perfectly normal time to call a friend, but for me it was barely thirty minutes after sunset, and I was in no mood to chat with anyone.


    ¡°It¡¯s Mercedes,¡± he said, pushing the phone under the pillow. ¡°She¡¯s been calling here all damned day, and I can¡¯t keep ignoring it. Your ringtone is driving me crazy.¡±


    After he¡¯d changed my ringer at Christmas to the annoyingly festive ¡°Baby, It¡¯s Cold Outside¡±, I¡¯d gotten my revenge by making my post-holiday call alert Human League¡¯s ¡°Don¡¯t You Want Me¡±, which was potentially one of the most irritating and catchy earworms of all time.


    In the middle of the chorus I hit talk and mumbled my greeting into the phone. ¡°Fuckingwhat?¡±


    ¡°Nice to talk to you too, morning glory. Did you forget to have some fucking coffee? A cup or twelve might cure your attitude problem.¡±


    I grunted.


    ¡°I will give you ten thousand dollars if you can guess what I¡¯m going to say next.¡±


    ¡°¡®Secret McQueen, your best friend is a psychopath who thinks you like guessing games. As a reward she is offering to never call you again.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Close, but sorry, I guess I get to keep my retirement fund.¡±


    ¡°Point. Get to it.¡±


    Desmond stood in the doorway wearing jeans and a gray cashmere sweater. There was a cup of hot coffee in his hand. Love is a beautiful man bearing caffeine. I sat up, letting the pillow fall to the floor, and held my hand out in the universal gesture for gimme. Desmond laughed and handed me the cup. Piping-hot and bitter-black as Satan¡¯s soul. Just how I liked it.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got bad news.¡±


    ¡°Cedes, the day you call me with good news I will die.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s about your boy.¡±


    Gee, that narrowed things down. ¡°Huh?¡± I took a big swig of coffee and made a face. A shot of whiskey had less potency.


    ¡°We found two more bodies. Columbia coeds. Same MO as Trish Keller.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± I finished the rest of the coffee and handed the mug back to Desmond. ¡°But if you found them since he¡¯s been in lockdown, wouldn¡¯t that clear Gabriel?¡± My voice sounded a little too hopeful, and it made me feel stupid and guilty.


    ¡°It would if the corpses weren¡¯t a week old.¡±


    ¡°Fuuuuuck.¡±


    ¡°A very concise summation, yes.¡±


    ¡°You need me to come down?¡±


    ¡°Tyler wants to see if Holbrook will talk to you, give something up. I know he was important to you, Secret, but we need to see if we can crack him.¡± The fact that she was calling him Holbrook instead of Gabe told me she¡¯d already distanced herself from this case on a personal level. Cedes knew Gabriel. We¡¯d spent time together when he and I had been a couple. They¡¯d butted heads, but she¡¯d only actively disliked him after he dumped me.


    That made two of us.


    ¡°There¡¯s still a chance he might be innocent.¡±


    ¡°I know how it works. Innocent until proven guilty. Remember which one of us is an officer of the law.¡±


    ¡°Then why are you so sure he did it?¡±


    ¡°Why are you so unwilling to admit he might be guilty?¡±


    I sighed and wished I had more coffee. I scuttled out from under the covers and went to my closet in search of something suitable to wear to a lynching. ¡°I don¡¯t want to think someone I slept next to for months and months is capable of being a serial killer.¡±


    ¡°You should watch more Dexter.¡±


    If I started to spend any more time at the police station, I was going to have to ask for a desk, a badge and a paycheck. This was, however, the first time in at least a year someone other than Barbie was perched behind the front desk. Instead of explaining myself and getting the frustrating runaround of ¡°I¡¯m sorry, did you say your name was Secret? I¡¯m going to have to call someone¡­¡± I decided to try the path of least resistance.


    I jerked my chin up in an abrupt greeting and marched past the front desk without a second glance or another word. Apparently the key to success was simply pretending you belonged somewhere.


    Detective Tyler spotted me before I was halfway across the room, and instead of any kind of glaring or snide remarks, he gave me an amiable nod and waved me over to his desk.


    Okay, this was just weird. Had I stumbled into some alternate reality where I was a normal woman and got to play cops and robbers for a living instead of eating blood and running a vampire government? If so, I was already loving it.


    ¡°McQueen,¡± Tyler greeted me as he sat down in his desk chair.


    I took the seat opposite him and leaned back, balancing the wooden chair on its two rear legs. This was a move my grandmere lovingly referred to as Death Bait.


    ¡°So, Detective Tyler, how can I be of assistance? Or did you call me in because you missed seeing my face?¡± I gave him my most dazzling smile. He looked unamused.


    ¡°While it fulfills my deepest unrealized fantasies to sit here and trade quips with you all day, Secret, I¡¯m afraid it will have to wait until I don¡¯t have a triple-homicide case to solve.¡±


    My chair dropped down, and a loud smack echoed through the relative quiet of the room. Tyler pretended to ignore it and handed me three folders, then took his opportunity to lean back. He loosened his tie, a blue-and-gold-striped number that brought out flecks of gold in his brown eyes I¡¯d never noticed before. The blue also made the dark circles under his lashes take on the appearance of deep purple bruises.


    He looked exhausted.


    The first folder was all familiar information. Trish Keller¡¯s photos, her class schedule, some statements from her roommate and a few family members, and the unfortunate crime-scene photos. Say what you will about the naked female form, but there¡¯s nothing pretty about it when it¡¯s gray-blue and stuffed in a Dumpster.


    The next two folders were carbon copies, with minute variations to keep things interesting. Misty Fitzpatrick and Angie Ferris. Both in their early twenties, both matriculated at Columbia, and both looked like boozy, floozy party girls based on their personal photos. What was it with the young women of today thinking the more eyeliner you wore and the oranger your tan the better it made you look?


    Sometimes I was thankful sunlight would kill me. I¡¯d rather be pale than look like a walking pumpkin. In the back of my head I heard Grandmere scolding me to not speak ill of the dead. Even thinking ill of the dead would be poor form in her opinion.


    I scanned the crime-scene photos of the two new girls, but they didn¡¯t tell me anything. Both girls were found nude, their skin frozen by the bitter cold of winter, their lips blue and fingertips black. As I thumbed through them I felt the weight of Tyler¡¯s gaze looming over me. My gaze darted up and caught him staring at me with a singular focus.


    ¡°What?¡± I asked as I closed the folders and placed them on his desk.


    ¡°I wonder about you sometimes.¡±


    This wasn¡¯t exactly akin to having a handsome man confess I think about you sometimes. To be frank, the less Detective Tyler thought about me, the better. Once upon a time I would have relished attention from him, because he was a good-looking, smart, funny man. He was also deliciously human, and much like being with Dominick, the time I spent with Tyler early in our acquaintance had made me feel grounded to the real world.

 Page 20

    Then the illusion had been masterfully shattered when I was forced to dice up three vampires in the Bryant Park subway station and Tyler had gone home without his memory.


    That was the real reason I didn¡¯t need him thinking about me. It was a rare feat, but sometimes people who¡¯d been enthralled by a vampire were able to regain their original memories. It often took years, sometimes hypnotherapy, but once in awhile they just had a series of lucid dreams until the real memory came back to them.


    I did not need Tyler Nowakowski to remember what he¡¯d seen. He¡¯d lock me up next to Gabriel and throw away the key.


    ¡°What do you wonder?¡±


    ¡°How is it a pretty girl like you can look at pictures like that and not be moved by them?¡±


    ¡°Would you prefer I turn into a trembling, weepy mess and launch into a fit of hysterics? It¡¯s not really my style, but if it would help you rationalize me better, I can do it.¡± For effect, I stuck out my lower lip a bit and gave it a good pre-sob tremble.


    Tyler rolled his eyes. ¡°Why do you insist on making a joke of everything?¡±


    ¡°Because if I took everything I see on a daily basis seriously, Detective, the weight of my life would destroy me.¡± Wow, that was a hell of an honest answer. Where had that come from?


    Even Tyler looked a little stunned by my candor. ¡°Sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to imply¡ª¡±


    I waved off his apology. ¡°We all have our coping mechanisms, right?¡±


    ¡°I suppose so.¡±


    Before he could try probing the layers of my subconscious any further, I rose to my feet and inclined my head towards the door at the back of the room. The employee-only basement stairs. It was time to get this show on the road. ¡°Let¡¯s go see that ex-boyfriend of mine, shall we?¡±


    ¡°We won¡¯t need to go downstairs for that.¡±


    My question came in the form of an arched brow and a puzzled expression.


    Tyler answered me with a simple direction. ¡°Interrogation room four.¡±


    There are a lot of women who would love to square off against an ex-boyfriend across an interrogation-room table, under the unforgiving fluorescent lights and with a one-way mirror bearing mute witness.


    I was not one of those women.


    The tiny room made me feel ill at ease and put me on the defensive before I¡¯d even taken my seat. I didn¡¯t like locked boxes with only one method of escape. I also didn¡¯t like knowing I was being watched by people I couldn¡¯t see. In spite of knowing better, the whole setup reeked of a trap. The two things keeping me from fighting against my instincts were the knowledge I was here to do a job and that the police weren¡¯t interested in killing me.


    The metal chair squealed against the tile floor, and for a long while the echo of its protestation was the only sound in the room. Gabriel smiled at me pleasantly, his cuffed hands folded in a look-how-innocent-I-am manner on the scarred wooden table. There was a lingering aroma of sweat and the stink of cigarette smoke in the room. In spite of a smoking ban in municipal facilities, I would stake money the cops here still garnered witness favor by offering them a smoke.


    I¡¯d seen enough police procedurals to know that a seasoned cop would play this two ways. Either the straight-up investigator who just wanted answers, or the good-cop, bad-cop routine. I¡¯d played the bad cop in my own life, and the idea of it was more than a little appealing given who I was dealing with, but I decided to try a different approach to see what Gabriel knew.


    ¡°How are they treating you?¡±


    Gabriel shrugged. ¡°My lawyer asked me the same thing. Fine, I guess. It¡¯s not the Ritz or anything. Remember that ghastly little motel we stayed at one summer when Keats made you go to Albany?¡±


    My poker face needed some work because I flinched. It was the same trip that first introduced me to Marcus Sullivan, the former Alpha of Albany, and the man who had turned my whole goddamn life into a shitstorm last year. I was still dealing with the fallout of killing him. How Gabriel had picked that memory out of all the others available to him was enough to make me want to reach out and deck him.


    Instead I focused on the other tidbit of information his sentence gave me.


    ¡°You have a lawyer, and yet you¡¯re here talking to me alone.¡±


    ¡°Do I need a lawyer present to talk to an old lover?¡± The familiarity of his tone made my stomach churn. This conversation would do nothing to convince the detectives on the other side of the glass that Gabriel was innocent. If anything, it made him look more like a creepy, leering sociopath.


    ¡°I want to help you, but you need to give me more to go on.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡± He held his hands out, palms up, and shrugged. ¡°I didn¡¯t kill the girl, Secret. If anyone should believe me, I would hope it would be you.¡±


    ¡°Why? Why should I believe you? You bailed on our life together with no notice. Why should I think you¡¯re somehow exempt from being a murderer?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t leave without my reasons. After everything¡­after what happened¡­ I wanted to believe you and I could have a life together, but I couldn¡¯t pretend, not after that.¡± He didn¡¯t need to elaborate. The allusion to what had gone on between us was enough to make me feel as though guilt and loss and emptiness were stabbing me in the heart. I¡¯d tried hard to forget what I lost at nineteen, and so had he if he still wasn¡¯t able to talk about it.


    ¡°I¡¯m not here to talk about us.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± He nodded, looking somewhat relieved.


    ¡°I¡¯m here to talk about Misty Fitzpatrick.¡±


    That got his attention. ¡°What did Misty tell you?¡±


    I sat back in the chair and said nothing.


    ¡°Look, that whole thing was a mess. She didn¡¯t start talking about grades until after I slept with her, and I told her in no uncertain terms I wasn¡¯t an express ticket to an A.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Jesus, Gabriel. Is there anyone in Mayhew¡¯s class you haven¡¯t fucked? What about Angie Ferris?¡±


    ¡°Once.¡±


    ¡°Gabriel.¡±


    ¡°Okay, two or three times, but she was a lousy lay and started introducing me as her boyfriend, and that¡¯s not how I do things.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, monogamy really fucked up your social life, didn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant. You know I was never unfaithful to you.¡±


    ¡°Do I?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you I wasn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Just like you¡¯re telling me you didn¡¯t kill Trish Keller or Misty Fitzpatrick or Angie Ferris.¡±


    ¡°Oh Christ. They¡¯re dead?¡±


    Wrapping my arms tight across my chest, I fixed him with a humorless glare. He¡¯d broken out into a sweat, and the sickly sweet aroma of fear was filling the room. Either he was afraid of what the implications of the new murders meant for him, or he was worried he was about to finally be caught. I could smell a lot of things, but the truth wasn¡¯t really one of them. A skilled liar can smell like a lot of things. A bad liar smells like anxiety and guilt. I was having a hard time making sense of Gabriel¡¯s particular fragrance.


    ¡°If I were to give you Mayhew¡¯s class list and ask you to circle the names of every girl you¡¯d slept with, how many circles would be on that list?¡±


    ¡°A lot,¡± he admitted.


    ¡°What does the name Lucy Renard mean to you?¡±


    There was a commotion behind the one-way mirror. Gabriel wouldn¡¯t be able to hear it, but I could get the gist of it. Someone was freaking out because the name meant nothing to their investigation. Tyler¡¯s even voice, muffled through the glass, was saying, ¡°Let¡¯s see where she¡¯s going with this.¡±


    ¡°Lucy? What about Lucy? No. Not Lucy too.¡± He looked like he was going to be sick.


    ¡°Would her name have a circle around it?¡±


    ¡°What? No. Look, Lucy was a gifted student, a really smart girl, that¡¯s why she was a freshman in a third-year class. Mayhew has a lot to deal with in class, and I think sometimes the top-notch students get overlooked because he has to deal with all the groupies.¡±


    ¡°So you had no physical relationship with Lucy.¡±


    ¡°No, I was mentoring her. I wanted to help her stand out more. She has a real future in medieval studies, with the right guidance. A good grade in Mayhew¡¯s class would go a long way. I even set up a few meetings between them privately so she could get to know him and maybe he¡¯d give her a grad school recommendation or something. I wanted to help her.¡±


    ¡°How noble.¡±


    ¡°Is she dead?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I confessed. ¡°But she¡¯s missing.¡±


    More uproar behind the glass. There was a full-on argument going on in there. My back was to the mirror, but I couldn¡¯t help myself. I looked over my shoulder and gave my reflection a hard, unforgiving stare. I shouldn¡¯t be able to hear them, but they might think they were being louder than they realized. It wasn¡¯t a top-of-the-line mirror, after all. The fighting got quieter almost instantly.


    Gabriel raked his fingers through his unwashed hair, leaving the dirty blond strands standing on end. His cuffs jingled with the trembling in his hands. For the life of me, I didn¡¯t think he was guilty. Guilty of being a world-class prick, yes. A serial killer, though? It didn¡¯t fit.


    ¡°Did you do it?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    We¡¯d already had this discussion, but I needed to have it again. I needed to hear it in his voice that he was innocent and I wasn¡¯t wasting my time helping him.


    ¡°Can you think of anyone, anyone at all, who might have set you up for this?¡±


    He cradled his head in his hands, shaking it from side to side. ¡°Who would want to do something like this to another person? I think Misty had a boyfriend, but murdering three girls seems like overkill for getting back at the other man, doesn¡¯t it?¡± He was talking to the table, no longer able to look me in the eyes.


    ¡°Gabriel, give me your hand.¡±


    He complied without question, holding out his palm as if he was going to take my hand in his and we¡¯d go strolling off into the sunset. I grabbed his wrist, pressing two of my fingers into his pulse point, and I stared him in the eyes.

 Page 21

    ¡°Tell me once and for all you didn¡¯t kill anyone.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t kill anyone,¡± he repeated, and his pulse never jumped. He still stank of fear, but who could blame him for that?


    There was one more thing I wanted to try, and doing it in front of a bunch of cops, especially Tyler, was risky as hell. But I¡¯d never get to be alone with Gabriel, and if there was a snowball¡¯s chance this might work, I had to do it. I¡¯d been able to enthrall the fae guard at Caligula, but I was worried Gabriel might be a tougher nut to crack, mentally.


    I squeezed Gabriel¡¯s wrist a little harder and he winced, but when I pulled him closer he didn¡¯t fight me. Resting my elbows on the table, I made sure our gazes were locked before I started to speak.


    ¡°You want to tell me the truth,¡± I commanded.


    Gabriel looked puzzled, tilting his head to the side. ¡°I am telling you the truth.¡±


    Fuck, this wasn¡¯t going to be as easy as saying, These are not the droids you are looking for.


    ¡°You want to tell me everything. Everything you know about the dead girls.¡±


    Behind the mirror someone asked, ¡°What the fuck is she doing?¡± Tyler shushed him.


    Gabriel¡¯s eyes took on a cloudy, distant look. ¡°Okay,¡± he said and nodded.


    ¡°Was there any other connection between them?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°What was the other connection?¡± You had to be frustratingly specific when it came to the thrall. The mind was as malleable as Silly Putty, but once you had it in your hands, you had to show it where to go.


    He grunted and tried to pull his hand back. With his teeth grinding together and a sheen of fresh sweat wetting his forehead, it was obvious he was fighting against something. But he hadn¡¯t resisted me up until now, so why with this question?


    Something in Gabriel¡¯s mind was trying to stop him from answering me.


    ¡°Tell me,¡± I demanded.


    A small moan escaped his throat, and then he said, ¡°Mayhew.¡±


    ¡°They were all in Mayhew¡¯s class. We know that.¡± Why would he struggle against telling me that?


    ¡°No.¡± He shook his head. ¡°They were all Mayhew¡¯s.¡±


    My fingers twitched, and I almost dropped his wrist. Holding it normally wasn¡¯t necessary to keep him under the thrall, but he was being tough. I also liked to know his pulse was still steady.


    ¡°What do you mean they were all his?¡±


    ¡°His favorites. His lovers.¡±


    I remembered my time in Oliver Mayhew¡¯s small office. The easy, casual way he¡¯d spoken to me. The underlying intimacy of his proximity. How beguiling the presence of such an unusual man had been. Was he really having affairs with his students? It wasn¡¯t that hard to believe.


    ¡°How do you know?¡±


    ¡°Because we shared.¡±


    Then I did drop his hand, disgusted, and broke eye contact. He shook, as if awakening from a bad dream. ¡°Sorry, did you ask something?¡±


    My repulsion faded, replaced by a cold trickle of dread. Gabriel¡¯s reaction to coming out of the thrall was so like my own when I had lost an hour of my night I was shocked I hadn¡¯t made the connection before. Because I was immune to the vampire thrall, I never considered it as a possible reason for my lapse, but what if there was something else like it, something non-vampiric, with the same impact?


    There was a knock on the door, and he and I both turned as Tyler stepped in. ¡°Are you finished here, Miss McQueen?¡±


    ¡°I sure as hell hope so.¡±


    Chapter Eighteen


    I knew all too well I would have to go visit Oliver Mayhew again, but the night was still in its juvenile phase, and I expected the good professor would be keeping late office hours. He did have all those young, nubile minds to nurture, after all.


    My queasiness over the knowledge that Gabriel and Mayhew had shared the women in their class hadn¡¯t abated. This was not the Gabriel Holbrook I¡¯d known. And what did it mean, they shared the girls? Did Gabriel test their willingness and then direct Mayhew towards the easy pickings, or did Mayhew pass his sloppy seconds on to Gabriel?


    Either way it was disgusting, and I was in no hurry to be in close quarters with Mayhew again. Instead I had a fact-gathering mission in mind. I¡¯d checked the girls¡¯ files when Tyler had shown them to me and confirmed the whereabouts of their bodies. Misty and Angie were both in the Medical Examiner¡¯s office, and it stood to reason Trish would still be there as well.


    If I was going to walk into a city building without any sort of official documentation, I couldn¡¯t do it alone. I was going to need help, preferably of the vampiric variety, and for once my initial reaction wasn¡¯t to call Holden. As much as I wanted the vampire on my side with this, I was going to have to be careful how often I called on him for non-council help. Rebecca ordering him to assist me was one thing. Problem was, Holden had a bad habit of demanding quid pro quo when I asked him for favors.


    I¡¯d already promised him something over Christmas he hadn¡¯t yet called me on. It was only a matter of time before he made me pay the piper, and it would mean spending a night with him. We hadn¡¯t gone over the finer points of what that meant, but I had a pretty good idea.


    Instead I was going to go to Brigit. She was a bubbly, buxom blonde and often proved helpful when a distraction was called for. Better yet, she had proven to be naturally gifted with the thrall. She was also my vampire ward, and with my power level it meant she was bound, on some level, to obey me. The bond would be stronger if I¡¯d actually sired her, but worked well enough to serve my purposes.


    It was also unlikely Bri would ask me to sleep with her as recompense for the night ahead, so she had one up on Holden there.


    The walk from the 76th Precinct to Brigit¡¯s apartment in Chelsea was long and cold. February was proving to be abnormally chilly in the city this year, with temperatures in the low twenties almost every day and dipping into the teens overnight. For a coastal city like New York, it was freakish enough to drive the average citizen indoors. What remained were the barren, frost-tinged streets of a massive city, seemingly stripped of all life.


    It made it hard to miss the vampire peeling across 30th Street like a bat out of hell. Vampires moved so fast it was usually impossible for human eyes to see them if they ran at full tilt. At best, a streak of color and displaced air would be the only indication something had passed you. In this case, something had hobbled the vampire badly enough it was running at a mere marathon pace.


    What the fuck?


    I sped up my walk until I was at the corner of the street, then looked in the direction the vampire had come from. My well-honed fight instincts saved me in time. I stepped back an instant before Shane Hewitt collided with me. He staggered to a halt, panting, his hands braced on his thighs as he tried to regain his breath.


    This was why humans made terrible rogue hunters.


    In that moment, I missed my old job like a severed limb.


    ¡°Tri¡­bunal¡­Leader.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, yeah. Skip the officials. What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°Rogue.¡±


    ¡°Obviously, thanks. Who?¡± We¡¯d issued so many warrants the week before it was hard to keep track of the outstanding ones.


    ¡°Jason¡­Kani¡­kos¡­¡±


    Oh God, The Greek. It would take Hewitt all night to puff the name out.


    ¡°How long have you been chasing him?¡±


    ¡°Since¡­Lexington¡­and¡­23rd.¡±


    ¡°Why is he limping?¡±


    ¡°Shot¡­him.¡±


    ¡°You know the head usually works better than the leg, right?¡±


    Shane didn¡¯t have a reply. Instead he lifted his head and glowered at me. Another expression like that and I¡¯d start thinking he was taking notes from Juan Carlos.


    ¡°Want some help?¡±


    For a moment he looked insulted, then a wave of harsh coughing tumbled out of his lungs, and he nodded. ¡°I¡¯d appreciate it.¡±


    I didn¡¯t wait for a more formal invitation. My SIG was out of the shoulder holster and the safety flicked off before he¡¯d finished saying ¡°it¡±. The gun felt cold in the winter air, its metal body warming under my grip. God, it was nice to have a reason to use it again.


    I was also glad I¡¯d opted for my good riding boots tonight. Knee-high black leather with a thick black sole and no heel to speak of, they weren¡¯t the most fashionable shoes in my warehouse, but they were perfect for running and could handle a little ass-kicking on the side. I didn¡¯t wait to see if Shane would be able to keep up. The vampire was already well ahead of us, and only the gunshot wound would keep him slow enough for me to catch. Once he¡¯d forced the bullet out, it might be days before we found him again.


    Considering we¡¯d issued a warrant on The Greek because he had a penchant for eating whole families, I didn¡¯t want to see him live out another night in my city.


    Running felt good, freeing. Being able to chase something fed both of my natures. The wolf loved the hunt, the vampire loved the speed. Both aspects loved the kill, so finding the vampire would feed me on a very base level. As a predator, it would sate my appetite long enough I could continue to keep up the human facade I fought so hard to project.


    Ahead, a car alarm began to wail.


    Shane was still at least a block behind me, but kudos to him for continuing the hunt. This was his job, after all, and as much as I wished it were me out here instead of him, he was going to have to learn how to handle these matters on his own. If I could teach him a little tonight, all the better.


    When I got even with the car, its alarm continued to scream while its lights flashed and the horn honked and honked. Car alarms were the devil¡¯s alarm clock. I wanted to shoot the damned thing in the hood and put it out of its misery, but I¡¯d learned the hard way a long time ago, being a bounty hunter didn¡¯t give you a free license for property destruction.


    Shane caught up to me, wheezing but not doubled over this time. I hadn¡¯t broken a sweat.


    ¡°Come out, come out, wherever you are,¡± I cooed.


    ¡°He¡¯s probably halfway to Jersey by now,¡± Shane added.

 Page 22

    But he wasn¡¯t. I could smell fresh blood with a strong vampire taint to it. Not only was the vampire no longer running, he was lying in wait for us. Too bad he¡¯d tried to hide behind an alarmed vehicle.


    ¡°If you play nice, I¡¯m in a position to help you.¡± I wasn¡¯t used to promising aid instead of dealing out threats. It felt strange. Not that I had any intention of helping The Greek, but as long as I didn¡¯t make anything official, he didn¡¯t need to know I was full of shit.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think¡ª¡±


    I shushed Shane by placing my fingers over his mouth. His lips were dry and his breath came out hot against my hand. He didn¡¯t argue again. I sniffed the air, a gesture more attuned to my werewolf half than my vampire one, but it did the trick. The scent of blood was stronger up ahead. It had to be fresh blood, because once blood aged I had a hard time picking up on it. This was so ripe it might as well have been an open vein in front of my nose.


    Creeping forward with Shane at my side, I came up next to the car where the smell was the strongest. A smear of crimson stained the door handle. If we¡¯d been chasing a human, his breath would have fogged up the glass inside, but there were no other signs of life inside the car.


    Shane reached for the door, his gun drawn, but I stopped him.


    ¡°This doesn¡¯t feel right,¡± I said.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    I stepped back, pulling him with me, and a second later the answer flattened us both to the ground. Injured or not, this vampire wasn¡¯t planning to go down without a fight. He¡¯d smeared his blood around the car, then hidden across the street and waited.


    Clever bastard.


    Fear and pain had gnawed away at him, and now that he had us down he was going for the kill, no questions asked. His fangs were out and his eyes had given over to the oily black of a blood-frenzied vampire. My own survival instinct kicked in, and my face shifted to mirror his own, fangs springing forth so fast I nicked the skin of my lip.


    Shane was gawking at me with wide-eyed terror. He¡¯d seen me week after week at the Council, sitting next to Sig, but until now he clearly hadn¡¯t thought of me as a real threat. It¡¯s amazing how far a pair of fangs will go to convince someone you mean business.


    Sadly, they did nothing to faze the vampire on top of me who was gunning for my throat.


    ¡°A little help,¡± I grumbled.


    Pinned to the street, I couldn¡¯t get my gun angled for a good shot. Shane staggered to his feet, fumbling for his own weapon. I wondered¡ªnot for the first time¡ªhow he¡¯d lasted as long as he had up to this point without being killed. Maybe it was a little performance anxiety, having to show his skills in front of his boss.


    I didn¡¯t care as long as he helped get the massive, three-hundred-pound, feta-scented vampire off my chest. I kneed The Greek in the groin, but either his testicles were so unimpressive I missed them, or he was so deep in his frenzy he hadn¡¯t felt the attack.


    ¡°Shane, any time now.¡±


    Snapping out of his shock, Shane raised his own weapon and fired without hesitation. The bullet glanced off the vampire¡¯s shoulder and bit into the asphalt beside my head. That was a little too close for comfort. My pulse kicked up, and my anxiety blossomed. I needed to get this meaty man-mountain off me in a hurry, before Shane¡¯s next shot took me out.


    I pushed at the wriggling mound on top of me, but the vampire was made of hard, immobile fat. He didn¡¯t budge. Snarling, he dove for my neck again, my hammering pulse an obvious target for his predatory instinct. I slammed my palm into his nose, shattering the bridge backwards. If I¡¯d hit it at a better angle, I could have driven the bone into his skull. It would have killed a human and dazed a vampire. Instead he kept coming for me; the only difference was now I was covered in his blood.


    Shane fired again, and the vampire jerked. He¡¯d scored a direct hit, but not anywhere lethal.


    My survival instinct kicked up a notch, and the street turned a hazy red color as my eyes lost their focus and my senses shifted away from the human and into something different. My arm hurt, which made no sense since the vampire hadn¡¯t bitten me, and it being pinned between us shouldn¡¯t cause me pain. The bones adjusted, realigning themselves. It felt like my hand was being broken and put back together.


    I cried out in pain and shoved all of my frustration, hurt and rage into the stomach of the vampire.


    He stopped fighting and fell backwards.


    When the red cleared from my eyes, I could see him clearly. He was sitting in the middle of the street with his stomach split open in a series of ragged red lines. They looked like claw marks. His hand was pressed against them, and when he pulled back to stare at his bloodstained fingers, the rips on his stomach sagged, then tore, spilling his entrails all over the asphalt.


    What?


    I clambered to my feet and yanked the gun out of Shane¡¯s hand, firing the remainder of the clip into the stunned vampire¡¯s head. When the crater of his skull was reduced to a fine pulp of pink mist and his body sagged to the ground with no hope of rising again, only then did I look down at my own arm to assess the damage.


    What I saw almost brought me to my knees.


    My hand wasn¡¯t broken. At some point while I¡¯d struggled with The Greek, my adrenaline had overwhelmed the veil of control I¡¯d kept over my werewolf side since I was a baby. Instead of a human left hand, I was looking at a hideous amalgamation of a human hand and a wolf paw. My fingers were shortened, and the skin had changed to a light gray color. A fine smattering of coarse hair covered my hand, ending abruptly at the wrist. But the claws were the biggest shock. An inch long and curved, they were dark black and covered in skin and blood.


    I had split the vampire open.


    Even as I watched, the pain reawakened in my hand, and everything shifted back to normal. It had taken mere seconds, but watching it felt like a lifetime.


    Shane looked away from the dead vampire. He hadn¡¯t seen a thing.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± he asked.


    I nodded stupidly, still staring at my hand. I guess I had inherited something from my mother after all. She was one of the few shapeshifters I¡¯d ever met who could complete selective form-shifts without being under the influence of the full moon.


    My hands trembled as I picked up my gun from the cold ground.


    ¡°You need to call the Council. Get them to send a clean-up crew.¡± I was already jogging away.


    ¡°Wait, where are you going?¡±


    I didn¡¯t answer. I needed to get away from there and back to somewhere safe and warm and normal before I threw up.


    Chapter Nineteen


    Brigit Stewart had an amazingly normal apartment for a dead girl.


    My hands were still shaking when she buzzed me up, but at least they were human hands. The question of how I¡¯d been able to shift only one part of my body, and shift it back, was beyond the scope of my understanding to answer. If my mother wasn¡¯t a homicidal maniac bent on killing me, she¡¯d be the perfect person to ask. Unfortunately, she wasn¡¯t an option.


    Yet another question to ask Grandmere when I got around to calling her.


    I let myself into Brigit¡¯s living room and was surprised to find a familiar young man sitting on the couch looking both pleased and guilty.


    ¡°Hi, Nolan.¡±


    Nolan Tate smiled, flashing his perfectly straight white teeth at me. He was a good-looking kid. A unique blend of Spanish and African-American traits gave his skin a coffee-and-cinnamon coloring. Nolan was more than just attractive, though. He was also a sweet, good-natured guy, and my immediate reaction to him was to keep him protected and safe.


    Yet here he was, alone with a vampire.


    ¡°Hiya.¡± His grin broadened a little more.


    ¡°What are you¡ª?¡±


    Brigit emerged from her bedroom wearing a tank top and a pair of lacy panties. She waved at me, her megawatt smile showing no signs of embarrassment, and ducked into the kitchen. When she returned, she handed Nolan and I each a cold beer in spite of the frigid temperature outside, and skipped back into her bedroom.


    ¡°Uhh.¡±


    ¡°So,¡± Nolan said, ignoring my stunned reaction. ¡°What brings ya here?¡±


    ¡°What brings you here?¡± I countered.


    ¡°I think dat¡¯s sorta obvious.¡± This time he had the decency to blush.


    Brigit came back in wearing a pair of faded denim jeans. She plopped down next to Nolan on the sofa and snuggled against his side. I wanted to point out to them that when they¡¯d first met, Brigit had enthralled him and bitten his neck open. But I wasn¡¯t really in a place to throw stones at their relationship choices, considering the giant glass mansion I lived in. Instead, I cracked open the beer and took a sip. It tasted rank and skunky, as most beer did.


    ¡°I have a job for Brigit.¡±


    ¡°Ohhh.¡± She clapped excitedly, like I¡¯d just told her my American Express and I were taking her on a no-limit shopping spree. ¡°Do I get to bite someone?¡±


    If her excitement over bleeding another person fazed Nolan at all, he didn¡¯t show it. The guy had spent way too much time with me and Keaty. I leaned against the closed front door and took another swig of the beer.


    ¡°No,¡± I replied. ¡°But you might need to convince a few city officials they didn¡¯t see anything.¡±


    She shrugged, the delight fading from her face. Compared to some of the other tasks I¡¯d had her perform, it was a little bit low on the excitement scale.


    ¡°Whatcha want me ta do?¡± Nolan asked.


    I hadn¡¯t plotted out a role for my new protege, considering I hadn¡¯t expected him to be here. That didn¡¯t mean he would be useless to me, though. A fresh pair of eyes might be just what I needed. Especially considering how shaken up I still was after the whole claw incident.


    ¡°You and I are going to look at some dead bodies.¡±


    The Medical Examiner¡¯s office was in the financial district a few blocks north of City Hall. It was a shade prettier than some of the buildings around it, but that only meant the building was a little older and maintained some of the old brick charm its neighbors never had. It still had the cold gray dullness most municipal buildings did.

 Page 23

    Since there was no warmth involved in what went on inside, nothing but the misery radiated onto the exterior surfaces. In the same way a plain building used for happier purposes, like a daycare or a charity headquarters, would look much warmer and more inviting.


    Empathetic magic was a funny thing, something even the most mundane of humans were impacted by.


    This building didn¡¯t need any wards or magic spells to tell passersby it wasn¡¯t a fun place. The structure screamed of pain and death. There were a lot of angry souls here, coming and going, waiting to be avenged. I wasn¡¯t a big fan of ghosts, and I wasn¡¯t thrilled about going somewhere we were almost sure to find them.


    It was like being afraid of snakes and walking into the reptile house at a zoo.


    But it wasn¡¯t the ghosts I was here to see. I¡¯d only ever met one who¡¯d been of any use to me, and she was long gone. The rest of them were mute specters, glaring indignantly and rattling their proverbial chains. They gave me the willies. No, I was here for the bodies, not the spirits.


    ¡°Cheery place,¡± Nolan said.


    ¡°Tell me about it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not so bad,¡± Brigit chimed in, always trying to be the silver lining, no matter how black the cloud. ¡°I mean¡­the¡­uh¡­¡± She screwed up her face and stared at the building, attempting to find the indefinable thing that might make it redeemable. Given enough time, she could find something nice to say about Mussolini, even if it was just that his name rhymed with fettuccine. ¡°The doors are awfully pretty,¡± she concluded.


    The doors were a nice touch. Big, dark wood, they were intricately carved with depictions of angels on one side and devils on another. Quite a fancy statement piece for a place where bodies got diced up into their component bits.


    I sent Brigit in first so she could convince the desk clerk we were expected. Given my success with Gabriel earlier in the evening, I might have been able to do it myself, but Brigit could turn the thrall on and off like a light bulb. She¡¯d been a vampire less than a year, and she was already proving to be a natural at being undead.


    A few minutes later she stepped back through the doors and waved us in. The desk clerk smiled at us like we were old friends. He was a plump, blond man with patchy red skin, but his smile was the warmest I¡¯d seen all night.


    ¡°Have fun, y¡¯all.¡± His head bobbed like he was agreeing with his own statement.


    Brigit patted him on the cheek as we passed and slipped his magnetic keycard out of his front pocket. My little ward, a grownup. Made my heart glow with a peculiar sort of pride.


    Beside the elevator bay was a black board with white letters on it announcing which offices and departments were on which floor. The main autopsy bays and body storage, more politely called ¡°Processing¡± and ¡°Morgue¡±, were located on the second basement level. I knew a few morgues around town where they¡¯d started storing bodies on the higher levels, in better-lit rooms. Those were favorites of the vampire council, because any dead vamps who ended up there turned to ash come daylight.


    I wanted to see if there was anything on these girls that might indicate something otherworldly had killed them. Anything other than Gabriel. It wasn¡¯t common for me to cross my fingers and hope a vampire had killed someone, but at least if that was the case, swift justice was at my disposal. I wouldn¡¯t even need to make a phone call to issue the warrant. That power was mine now.


    We rode the elevator down, and I tried to ignore Brigit and Nolan¡¯s cutesy whispering and playful touching. I couldn¡¯t wrap my head around the two of them as a couple. The door opened into a sterile white hallway that reeked of ammonia and bleach. Our shoes squeaked on the floor as we moved, it was so clean. There were four doors, one on each side of the elevator, and a matching one across the hall from those. Each was marked with a number and a chart on the door to indicate the bodies held within.


    ¡°We¡¯re looking for Fitzpatrick, Keller and Ferris,¡± I informed them.


    The three of us split up to check the doors for the corresponding names. I hit pay dirt on the last door. All three women and one Jane Doe were stored within. Brigit used her stolen keycard to provide us access to the room. Inside, the room temperature was a good ten degrees cooler than the hall outside.


    All the better to keep your corpses fresh with, my dear.


    Built into the back wall were six metal cabinets. In the middle of the floor was a table on wheels, a light stand and an empty instrument tray. On one side of the room were several glass-paneled storage units containing everything from cotton balls and rubber gloves to scalpels and bone saws. I knew what was in each cabinet because the doors contained a meticulous list of the contents.


    The antiseptic smell was stronger in here than in the hall as well. I opened one of the storage cabinets and handed Nolan and Brigit each a pair of rubber surgical gloves before putting on my own. I didn¡¯t need us leaving anything behind that might prove we¡¯d been in this room. Fingerprints in the elevator and the exterior hall were one thing¡ªanyone could get there and likely dozens of people a day touched those surfaces. A poorly placed fingerprint on a body, on the other hand, could lead to some unpleasant implications.


    The middle two drawers on the back wall were unmarked, which led me to believe they must be empty. I started with Trish Keller, who was in the top left-hand drawer. Lucky for me and my stunted growth, the top drawer came out at chest height, so I didn¡¯t need to find a stepladder to get a good look at the body.


    She was sheathed in an opaque white bag, which I unzipped to reveal her naked, blue-gray body. Nolan made a small noise, but Brigit leaned over my shoulder to get a better view.


    ¡°Ew,¡± she said, summarizing my own feelings with perfect brevity.


    ¡°Just think, Bri, you could have looked like this too if I hadn¡¯t intervened.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    I¡¯d been teasing, but her gratitude sounded genuine. When she¡¯d first been turned, she wanted to kill me for it. Now she seemed legitimately thankful.


    ¡°Nolan, can you find me the chart for Trish Keller?¡± I pointed to the door where several metal clipboards were sorted into their own divider slots next to the magnetic swipe pad. There were six slots and only four folders, confirming my suspicion about the empty drawers.


    He came back and tried to hand me the clipboard, but I was too busy scanning Trish¡¯s body for any sign of partially healed vampire bites or other supernatural residue.


    ¡°Whatcha lookin¡¯ for?¡± he asked.


    ¡°See if there¡¯s anything unusual in her blood work. Elevated levels of adrenaline. Higher than usual concentrations of hormones. A higher than usual amount of testosterone.¡± As I listed each telltale sign of shapeshifter blood, Nolan replied in the negative. Trish¡¯s blood was clean, with the exception of high blood alcohol and traces of cocaine.


    Maybe it was naive, but I figured girls at Ivy League schools were less likely to have hard drugs in their systems. College was certainly different than I gleaned from watching Animal House and Road Trip, if doing lines of blow was more common than doing keg stands. If Gabriel wasn¡¯t responsible for Trish¡¯s death, maybe her party lifestyle had contributed to her murder. It was definitely something to consider.


    I zipped her bag and continued the search, next checking Angie Ferris, who was rooming downstairs from Trish. Same thing, no signs of bites or violence, nothing weird in her blood. By the time we¡¯d pulled out Misty¡¯s body I was giving up hope of finding proof that would clear Gabriel. These girls had died of something natural. Sure, it was still murder, but their killer didn¡¯t appear to be anything more than a normal, messed-up human.


    We stowed Misty¡¯s body, and I was about to call it a night, when I looked at Jane Doe¡¯s locker above Misty¡¯s. Why was this girl in here with them? The other three made sense, because they were a part of an ongoing investigation, but what about the unknown?


    ¡°Nolan, grab Jane Doe¡¯s chart for me, please.¡±


    He didn¡¯t ask any questions, just went to grab the clipboard as I opened the final cabinet and pulled the sliding tray out.


    The first thing I noticed was potentially more disturbing than anything we¡¯d seen with the other girls thus far. It wasn¡¯t anything about the condition of her body¡ªshe looked like most dead girls do. You know¡­pasty, cold, generally corpsey. What creeped me out about Jane Doe was something much more mundane.


    I knew her.


    I didn¡¯t know her name, but the mousy brown hair and the chubby roundness of her features came screaming back to me. We¡¯d locked eyes across a dim office, right before she¡¯d jumped out a third-floor window at the museum earlier that week. But I knew perfectly well the fall hadn¡¯t killed her. I¡¯d checked for a body.


    Yet this was the same girl.


    ¡°Nothin¡¯ in the blood,¡± Nolan told me before I asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to know about her blood.¡±


    ¡°Whatcha wanna know?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s her date of death?¡±


    ¡°Uhh.¡± He paged through the sheets until he found what he was looking for. ¡°Says she died ¡®bout two weeks ¡®go.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I shook my head and took the clipboard from him. ¡°That can¡¯t be right. I saw this girl a few days ago, and she was very alive then.¡± But he wasn¡¯t mistaken. The Medical Examiner clearly believed her body had been dead for over two weeks. It had only been found the previous day, however.


    ¡°If she¡¯s been dead for two weeks, shouldn¡¯t she, like, be rotting or something?¡± Brigit queried.


    She had a good point. There should be more decomposition happening, but the girl appeared to be well-preserved. Curiouser and curiouser. Then I remembered something else about her from the night we¡¯d encountered one another.


    Since Nolan was now the one standing closest to the body, I asked, ¡°Can you unzip the bag so I can see her shoulder?¡±


    He pursed his lips and wrinkled his nose but didn¡¯t argue with me.


    If this was the same girl I¡¯d encountered at the museum, she should show some sign of the gunshot I¡¯d landed on her shoulder. I needed to know if it really was the same girl and not my mind playing tricks on me.

 Page 24

    Nolan peeled back the body bag to expose Jane Doe¡¯s bare white shoulders. All three of us leaned over the corpse, and I half-expected her to open her eyes and stare back at us. But nothing happened. And there were no scars on her shoulder or anywhere else on her body.


    ¡°What the hell?¡± I said, unable to understand why there was no evidence of the wound. I wasn¡¯t willing to accept I was wrong about it being the same girl. The resemblance was too uncanny.


    When we pulled back, the dead girl¡¯s eyelid had opened, and she leered at us with her one constricted pupil, her face contorted in a sinister, frozen wink that was more creepy than comical. Brigit, Nolan and I all stepped back in unison. I knew bodies did messed-up things postmortem, but it was hard not to imagine that she was staring at us. I was suddenly all too aware that we were in the middle of a room full of corpses, and the heebie-jeebies set in full force.


    I did the only thing I could think to do. I zipped the bag back up, pushed the tray back in and closed the cabinet with a final, satisfying click. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I swore the rank of decay was hanging heavy in the air, and I feared it had sunk into my clothes, hair and pores. I would spend hours in the shower washing the smell of death off me.


    When we left, Brigit gave the smiling desk clerk his card back.


    None of us said a word.


    Chapter Twenty


    My original plan had been to go straight from the Medical Examiner¡¯s office to Columbia to talk to Mayhew again. But with the smell of rotten corpse clinging to me, I needed a hot shower and a change of clothes before I went anywhere.


    There were any number of places I could have stopped between the financial district and the Columbia campus, but I still felt like I reeked of death and had corpse stink oozing out of my sweat. The only shower that would do was my own.


    When I unlocked my door, I almost tripped over Desmond¡¯s work shoes. Kicking them out of the way, I shucked my boots off next to his. The water was running in the bathroom, so Desmond had probably gone to the gym after work and just gotten home. If he¡¯d been in a hurry to go from the office to a workout, it would explain his haphazard shoe disposal. Of the two of us, he was almost always the neater one.


    Who was I kidding? He was always the neater one.


    I contemplated waiting for him to finish in the shower, but the stench wafting off me was too much to bear. Stripping in the middle of the hallway, I stalked into the bathroom and climbed into the steaming shower stall. Desmond¡¯s brown hair and olive skin looked especially dark against my garish pink tub and rose-print wallpaper.


    He also seemed surprised to see me.


    ¡°To what do I owe the pleasure?¡± he asked, his voice slipping into the husky growl he reserved for bedroom conversation.


    I would have loved to act out some slippery, soapy, shower-sex fantasy with him right then, but it wasn¡¯t meant to be. He was a werewolf, and his sense of smell was second to none, even when he was in his human form. The moment he stooped to kiss me he recoiled, his nose wrinkled with disgust.


    ¡°What? You don¡¯t like my new perfume?¡±


    ¡°Eau de Putrification? God, Secret, what is that?¡±


    ¡°Death.¡± I should have known he¡¯d be able to smell it on me. It was bad enough that the wolves could smell vampires on me, but real human death had its own distinctive, lingering quality. I¡¯d been right to shower.


    Desmond put his hands on my waist, but it wasn¡¯t a come-on. He pushed me past him so the full brunt of the showerhead was angled in my face. The water was so hot I thought it might burn off the top layer of my skin. I turned it hotter. To Desmond¡¯s credit he didn¡¯t bail out to get away from the smell. Instead he opted to empty half a bottle of green-apple-scented shampoo onto my head and made a desperate effort to scrub the stink out of my hair by sheer force of will.


    In spite of the unpleasant reason for my being there, it felt fantastic to have him wash my hair. He applied just the right amount of pressure on my scalp and wrapped my hair into a thick tail to rinse the shampoo free. Then he handed me a loofah and ducked out of the shower.


    I was impressed he¡¯d lasted that long.


    A good fifteen minutes later my skin was scrubbed pink, I¡¯d washed my hair again, and we were out of pomegranate body gel. I still detected the lingering touch of old death when I took a deep breath, but I always smelled a little dead.


    Desmond was dressed and waiting for me in the kitchen with a pre-warmed glass of AB negative.


    ¡°Well¡­¡± He handed me the glass. ¡°Now you smell like a rotting fruit salad. I guess it¡¯s an improvement.¡±


    ¡°Did they teach you how to woo a lady at charm school? You¡¯re excellent at it.¡±


    ¡°You mean we don¡¯t club women over the head and drag them back to our caves? Hmm.¡± He swallowed a mouthful of water. ¡°We wolfmen must have missed that lesson.¡±


    ¡°Lucas sure did,¡± I added with an indignant huff.


    Desmond wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and kissed me. I hadn¡¯t been expecting it. His lips were warm and velvety soft in spite of the harsh dry air. I made a mental note to send the folks at ChapStick a thank-you letter. He didn¡¯t push for more than a kiss, just let the gesture stand as its own entity. And what a kiss it was. My knees turned to gelatin, and I sagged into him, still clumsily holding my glass of blood in one hand while caressing his smooth cheek with the other.


    He pulled back, playfully licking my swollen lower lip and sending tingles from my forehead to my toes.


    ¡°You still stink,¡± he said with a roguish smirk, kissing the tip of my nose.


    ¡°Yeah well¡­¡± There was no obvious comeback, so I went for an old classic. ¡°Your face still stinks.¡±


    ¡°Real smooth.¡±


    ¡°Shut up.¡±


    I finished the blood and went to the bedroom to get dressed. This time I didn¡¯t bother with college-girl chic. I was going to talk to Mayhew as the real me, and if I needed to get rough to get answers, I wanted to be dressed for it. My outfit consisted of leather pants, one of Desmond¡¯s Yankees shirts that was loose enough to hide the knife tucked into the waistband of my pants, and Dominick¡¯s leather jacket to conceal the SIG and its holster.


    Some people wore camouflage to go on a hunt. I wore leather and my boyfriend¡¯s T-shirt.


    Desmond gave me a once-over when I sat on the couch to pull my boots on.


    ¡°So that¡¯s why all my shirts smell like you. I was starting to think I was going crazy.¡±


    ¡°You are going crazy. Every day you stay with me proves it.¡±


    There was a brief pause as he sipped his water and digested the hard truth of my words. In the end he gave a half shrug and smiled at me. ¡°Then I guess I¡¯m crazy.¡±


    I don¡¯t think my heart had jumped as hard when he¡¯d told me he loved me. Since the situation with Lucas had taken a southerly dive this week, I¡¯d been holding my breath for the moment Desmond decided he was fed up with being one point in a ridiculously scalene love triangle and bailed for good. I¡¯d been sure the time had come when he walked out, yet here he was in my apartment, looking like he was always going to be with me.


    I let out a breath I didn¡¯t know I¡¯d been holding.


    ¡°I don¡¯t deserve you,¡± I admitted, both to myself and to him.


    He crossed the room and cupped the back of my head, tilting it back slightly so I was looking at him. ¡°We all deserve exactly what we get. Good or bad. My dad used to tell me that.¡±


    ¡°You never talk about him.¡±


    ¡°I do when it matters.¡±


    ¡°What happened to him?¡±


    Desmond dropped his hand and sat on the arm of the loveseat. ¡°He died.¡± He was looking at his hands instead of at me. I didn¡¯t push him further, hoping he¡¯d offer the rest of the story on his own. When I thought he was about to change the subject, he said, ¡°You already know he was Jeremiah¡¯s second, right?¡±


    ¡°The Desmond to his Lucas, so to speak.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. They were a lot like us, and in some ways a lot different. Dad met Jeremiah later in life. He grew up in a Southern wolf pack, actually, on the edge of the western territories. He moved east in his late teens, and his family had to appeal to the king for their right to come into the territory. At the time, Lucas¡¯s grandfather Gerald was the Eastern pack king. He was grooming his son for the crown, so Jeremiah was there for the appeal. There wasn¡¯t a bond between them, not like with me and Lucas, but they liked each other instantly.


    ¡°In spite of my father being the son of Mexican immigrants, the Rain family never deterred the friendship. It was ultimately obvious their friendship had formed a fierce loyalty, and my father became the apparent choice to serve as Jeremiah¡¯s second when he came into power.¡±


    Desmond was so immersed in the story it was like he was telling it from within a trance. I feared anything I said might break the spell, and I¡¯d never know what had become of the two men. I stared at him in rapt silence and waited for him to continue.


    ¡°In Jeremiah¡¯s thirty-five years as king, the Eastern pack functioned like a well-oiled machine. There were no territorial disputes, almost no internal conflict. People were happy. Alphas were treated as their own leaders and given enough power to feel important, but enough leash to not overstep their bounds. If there was ever a Pax Lupo¡ªa peaceful time for the wolves¡ªthat was it.¡±


    No wonder Lucas was struggling so much to maintain his position as the king. Not only was he young, but the shadow of his father¡¯s legacy stretched far into the Eastern pack empire. There were old Alphas who would reject change and would resent Lucas for not maintaining the status quo established by his father.


    Supernatural politics could teach the White House a thing or two about being convoluted.


    ¡°With how relaxed everything was, no one was expecting the invasion. We guard ourselves against internal upset, but these guys were a rogue wolf pack out of Germany. They didn¡¯t go for the outlying territories either, which is what any smart usurper would do.¡±


    Notably not what Marcus Sullivan had done.


    ¡°They came to the city and rounded up as many wolves as they could. I don¡¯t mean these wolves joined forces with them. I mean they kidnapped them and held them hostage. This was six years ago, and it was summer. Lucas and I were doing a semester abroad in France. We didn¡¯t find out about any of it until the dust settled.

 Page 25

    ¡°Jeremiah invited the Alpha of the German pack for a summit. They met at one of the old Rain warehouses in New Jersey, and right from the start it all went wrong. I only know what I know from the one wolf who survived, the Alpha of Philadelphia. Apparently the Germans went in with one agenda¡ªto kill everyone in power and set their own leaders up in place. It never would have worked. The individual packs would have revolted.¡± He shook his head over how one misguided plan had cost him the head of his family.


    ¡°It was a bloodbath. The Germans were all killed, but so were all the hostage wolves, and most of the Alphas who had gone with Jeremiah. My father¡­¡± Desmond sucked in a breath, and I heard the tremor in his voice. ¡°My father died protecting his king. But it didn¡¯t matter. Jeremiah died the next day. His wounds were too extensive, and he was too old.¡±


    ¡°Des¡­¡± I touched his arm, and he flinched.


    ¡°So stupid.¡± He ran a thumb under each eye, though he hadn¡¯t cried for the duration of the story. ¡°Lucas and I got home, and suddenly he was a king at twenty-one, and I was his second. We had a whole damned pack to run and barely any idea of how to do it.¡±


    ¡°But you did it,¡± I told him.


    ¡°Did we? I don¡¯t know. Sometimes I think we¡¯re holding it together, but we never let it heal properly. I worry all it will take is one hard tap and the whole thing is going to fall apart.¡±


    If that was how my uncle saw the Eastern pack, it was no wonder he was making his move now. And by the sound of things he was doing it exactly the way Desmond believed was the smart route to a hostile takeover.


    I couldn¡¯t let that happen.


    Squeezing his hand, I rested my head against his shoulder. Whatever it took, I would play my role in all of this. Lucas¡¯s pack wouldn¡¯t fall apart because I wasn¡¯t willing to be a pawn. It was time to put my pride on the back burner and live up to my title as pack protector. If I didn¡¯t, it might be Desmond and Lucas who paid the price, and I couldn¡¯t live with myself if that happened.


    Chapter Twenty-One


    I wasn¡¯t cut out for university life.


    This was only my second trip to the Columbia campus, and I already detested the place. It wasn¡¯t that the buildings didn¡¯t have a certain academic charm to them, or that the feel of a miniature city within a city didn¡¯t have an appeal. No, none of those things made me hate higher education.


    The goddamn place was teeming with people who were begging to become victims.


    Young women filed out of Mayhew¡¯s lecture hall, and it was like watching an evolutionary progression diagram. Except instead of showing the development of early man into homo sapien, I was seeing a digression from good-girl student into sororitos sluttius. The shirts got lower and the skirts got higher as each new girl stepped out.


    It was February, for God¡¯s sake. I couldn¡¯t feel the cold, and I still wouldn¡¯t wear a micromini outside.


    When the last girl had left, I ducked into the classroom and stood at the top of the stairs watching Professor Mayhew pack up his big leather books. When he didn¡¯t notice me right away, I cleared my throat.


    ¡°Oh, Miss¡­ I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯ve forgotten your name, love.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, must be hard to keep track of them all.¡±


    ¡°Beg pardon?¡±


    The stairs were deep and narrow, but I managed to descend without taking my eyes off him. ¡°I was wondering something. Does the quality of a girl¡¯s bedroom performance impact the level of the grade she gets, or is it her willingness that does it? Like, if she¡¯ll only blow you, is it a one-letter grade bump? What does she have to do for an A?¡±


    Mayhew propped an elbow on his lectern and stared at me with his hooded gray eyes, unfazed by my words. After a moment of contemplation, he shrugged one shoulder. ¡°I didn¡¯t put as much thought into it as you evidently have. The arrangement was mutually beneficial, Miss McQueen. What is it they say? If it ain¡¯t broke, don¡¯t fix it?¡± He affected a perfect redneck accent for the last phrase, making me shudder.


    ¡°I see you have no problem remembering my name when the discussion is about blowjobs.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I hadn¡¯t forgotten you at all.¡± He tilted his head to the side and smirked at me. ¡°So are you here to offer, or did you want to see if I¡¯d deny it?¡±


    Good question. I wasn¡¯t here to offer him anything other than the pointy end of my knuckles. But I had expected him to deny it. His cavalier confession was throwing me for a loop.


    Taking advantage of my momentary uncertainty, Mayhew hopped off the raised platform so he was standing uncomfortably close to me. It was a peculiar gesture for a man with a permanent limp, a little too lithe and graceful to be natural.


    Something was wrong here.


    I stepped back, and Mayhew followed me, catching my wrist and pulling me back towards him. His strength was shocking. My synapses were firing on full blast, screaming at me to do any number of things. Instinct said I should punch him, kick, slap, claw and do anything it took to break free of his hold.


    My body responded by doing nothing and letting him tug me against his chest. ¡°I was wondering how long it would be before you found your way back to me,¡± he said, nuzzling his nose against my throat.


    A thousand furious thoughts bounced around inside my skull, but none of them shook my limbs out of their leaden stupor.


    ¡°What the hell do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± My mouth still worked, apparently. As usual, though, it didn¡¯t do me a fat lot of good.


    ¡°What does it look like, love? I¡¯m grading you.¡± His voice was smooth and had an undertone of something dangerous. Not a threat, but the promise of violence lurking under his tweed-clad professor veneer. It pained me to acknowledge it, but my body responded to him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t. Fucking. Touch. Me,¡± I growled through gritted teeth.


    Fingers skimmed my arms, ducking inside my jacket and traveling down to my waist. He looped his thumbs into the belt loops on my pants and jerked my hips so they were flush with his. His lips grazed my neck, and my brain kicked me. If my mouth worked, so did my fangs.


    I bit him in the ear.


    Mayhew tried to pull away, but this time I held fast. He let go of my waist and dug his fingers in my hair, his lips grazing my own ear. The whole time he hadn¡¯t once cried out in pain, which was astonishing given the fact I had inch-long fangs buried in the soft tissue of his earlobe.


    He nipped at my diamond earring stud, tugging it with his teeth, and whispered in my ear, ¡°If you want to play that way, I can show you how much pain the human body can withstand without dying.¡±


    My fangs retracted almost instantly. The words hadn¡¯t been a threat, they¡¯d been a promise. And judging by the hardness pressed against my thigh, that promise excited him.


    ¡°What do you want?¡±


    Mayhew licked the shell of my ear, and I fought against the urge to gag. The words he was whispering weren¡¯t English. I wasn¡¯t a master of archaic languages, but if I had to make a guess, I would say he was speaking to me in Latin. It sounded old and stuffy enough.


    Undeterred by my attack, he started exploring with his hands again.


    ¡°You¡¯ve come to make me an offering,¡± he said, finally uttering words I could understand.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather chew on my own eyeballs than make any kind of offering to you.¡±


    He leaned back and met my gaze, looking puzzled. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be fighting me.¡±


    Oh, God, this kept getting worse. The last time someone had frozen me he had been the most powerful witch I¡¯d ever met.


    Oliver Mayhew didn¡¯t smell like magic.


    I sucked on my teeth. His blood was too thick, too bitter. I didn¡¯t know what it was, but Mayhew wasn¡¯t human.


    The good professor didn¡¯t quite know what to do with me. He seemed to be debating whether or not he should release me or carry on with his dirty business. I didn¡¯t want him touching me, but he had to understand letting me go wouldn¡¯t be in his best interests.


    He kissed me.


    Also not in his best interests.


    I bit down on his lip hard, ignoring his earlier promise of sadistic experimentation. Again my mouth filled with his strange, noxious blood, but I didn¡¯t release my bite. It felt like swallowing crude oil. The moment his blood hit the back of my throat, I gagged, choking on the burning sensation. As soon as I stopped biting him, he forced his tongue into my mouth.


    My limbs began to tingle, as though I¡¯d rested funny and every part of my body had fallen asleep and was only now waking up. Before I could react, something cold like a sharp inhale on a below-zero morning was pulled out of my lungs, leaving me gasping for air. Then everything went black.


    Chapter Twenty-Two


    There was a crick in my neck when I woke up.


    An ancient-looking man with deep wrinkles and a permanent scowl was staring at me. He held a broom handle in one hand and presumably had just finished poking me with it, judging by its angle and the sore spot on my ribs.


    ¡°Guh.¡±


    ¡°This ain¡¯t no goddamn Super 8, lady. We got ¡®em goddamn dorm rooms for a reason.¡± It looked like he wanted to give me another prod. I appeared to have fallen asleep in a classroom. Where was I?


    ¡°What time is it?¡± Rubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms only made everything blurrier.


    ¡°It¡¯s one in the goddamn morning.¡±


    ¡°No, that can¡¯t be right.¡± But then again, what time was I expecting it to be?


    The obliging old man jammed his watch in my face. Unless his Timex was way off, he was telling me the truth. What the fuck? I tried to remember something, anything from earlier in the night, but I drew a blank.


    ¡°Where am I?¡±


    ¡°You gotta be joking.¡±


    I shook my head, trying to keep the wave of panic from swelling up inside me. ¡°No. I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re in the goddamn English building.¡±


    ¡°What English building?¡±


    ¡°At Columbia. Jesus, girlie. You hit your head or something?¡± He now looked a little guilty for prodding me with the broom.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I mumbled, ignoring his question as I pushed past him and out of the classroom.

 Page 26

    Outside, I called my number-two speed dial. It rang twice and a groggy male voice answered.


    ¡°Keaty, something weird is happ¡ª¡±


    ¡°Huh? Secret, you called my cell, not Keats.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t place the voice, but he obviously knew me. Something in my chest tightened. Should I know this man? I must, but my brain wasn¡¯t giving me a mental image to match with the words in my ear. A frustrated growl escaped my throat, and I hung up.


    On the next attempt I dialed Mercedes¡¯s number by memory, not trusting my speed dial.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    I hadn¡¯t said a word yet. ¡°I¡­uhh. Cedes?¡±


    ¡°Who else? You called me. At one. What¡¯s wrong?¡± In the background a masculine voice mumbled something and she replied, ¡°It¡¯s fine, go back to sleep.¡±


    ¡°Cedes, this is going to sound a little strange¡­¡±


    ¡°Like that¡¯s a shocker.¡±


    ¡°Have you seen me today?¡±


    She didn¡¯t answer me for such a long time I said her name again. At last she said, ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a trick question. I need to know if you¡¯ve seen me today.¡±


    ¡°No, I worked the day shift today. But we talked on the phone earlier. Tyler said you put on quite a show at the station tonight, though.¡±


    ¡°Tyler?¡± Was that a name to pair with the voice on the phone? It didn¡¯t sound right for some reason, but at the moment now nothing was right.


    ¡°Tyler Nowakowski.¡±


    I shook my head. Although she couldn¡¯t see me, my silence was enough of an answer. When she spoke again her pitch was a little higher, and she sounded worried. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Secret,¡± I replied with a snort. ¡°As if I could possibly forget that.¡±


    ¡°Where do you live?¡±


    ¡°West 52nd Street.¡± When she didn¡¯t respond, I added, ¡°New York, New York.¡±


    ¡°Who are you dating?¡±


    ¡°No one.¡± Like she could ask me that. Gabriel had just left me. I wasn¡¯t too keen to leap headfirst into the dating pool at this point. Or, you know, ever. But who the hell had I called by accident? It definitely hadn¡¯t been Gabe¡¯s voice. Or Keaty¡¯s. ¡°No one?¡± I said again, only this time it was a question.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think Lucas Rain would like to be called a no one.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure he wouldn¡¯t, but I¡¯ve never met him so I don¡¯t know if I really care what¡­ Wait. You¡¯re not saying?¡± Laughter pealed out of me. ¡°Nice try. I¡¯ll believe I¡¯m dating a billionaire when pigs sprout wings.¡±


    ¡°The bacon¡¯s been flying for about a year now, sweetie. Where are you?¡± The serious tone of her words made my laughter fade immediately.


    ¡°I¡¯m just leaving Columbia.¡±


    ¡°The hotel?¡±


    ¡°No, the school.¡±


    ¡°At one in the morning?¡±


    ¡°Long story.¡± I could only assume that was true.


    ¡°I have no doubt. I want you to hail a cab and meet me at the station. Have you talked to Keats?¡±


    ¡°I tried to call him, but some strange guy answered.¡± A cab drew near, and I raised my arm. The air inside was about a zillion degrees too hot. The driver smelled of paprika and cigars, and combined with the warmth it made the cab feel about as cozy as a harem in Hell.


    Mercedes was speaking to the male voice. They were discussing something in hushed tones. I could have made out the words if I tried, but I was too preoccupied with my own thoughts at the moment.


    ¡°Cedes,¡± I whispered.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s something wrong with me, isn¡¯t there?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    The 76th Precinct station looked as tired and worn down as I felt. Old gray concrete walls were streaked with iron stains from snow melting off the old metal roof, and the steps were cracked and stooping.


    Inside, a bitchy-looking blonde shot me a glare I wasn¡¯t certain I deserved and didn¡¯t ask me why I was there. She resumed typing the minute I was through the front doors. Unannounced I made my way to the main work floor and scanned the desks for the dark halo of Cedes¡¯s hair. If she was coming from the West Village and I¡¯d woken her with my call, I had probably beaten her here.


    A good-looking brunet with strong shoulders and a toned chest that filled out his white dress shirt in a delightful way caught my eye from across the room. His thick black brows knit together, and he cocked his head to the side like a German shepherd who didn¡¯t understand a verbal command.


    He stood and started crossing the sea of desks to meet me.


    Shit.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± he asked, not angry just mystified.


    ¡°I, uh¡­ Detective Castilla wanted me to¡ª¡±


    The man ignored me and continued. ¡°Did you find something out about Holbrook?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here for¡­Gabriel Holbrook?¡±


    ¡°Am I holding a different Holbrook on murder charges? Get with the program, McQueen.¡±


    Oh, Jesus, this guy knew me. I hadn¡¯t the faintest clue who he was, and he was talking to me like we¡¯d known each other for a million years. Or at least long enough for him to think it was okay to talk to me like I was a retard.


    Which, given the circumstances, was sort of warranted.


    But the other part of his sentence was significantly more important right then. They were holding my ex on murder charges. Was I supposed to know this? The sexy detective seemed to think I was part of the investigation.


    I should wait for Mercedes, but this was too much to ignore.


    ¡°Can I see him?¡±


    ¡°You gonna do a little more of that voodoo you do?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°The thing where you like¡­I don¡¯t know exactly. You touched him, and suddenly he was spilling his guts. It was fucked up. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it. But damned if it didn¡¯t work.¡±


    I didn¡¯t have a single fucking clue what this guy was talking about. ¡°Can I see him?¡± I asked again.


    Detective Sexypants shrugged. ¡°I guess so.¡±


    He led me to the basement where a grouchy bald guy made me sign a sheet and relinquish my weapons, including a knife I¡¯d never seen before. Tonight kept getting more and more messed up as the hours progressed. Or at least I figured that was the case. I couldn¡¯t remember anything before waking up in the classroom, so maybe this was the eye of the storm.


    The detective showed me into a room with four cells and then left me, saying, ¡°If you need anything, I¡¯ll be out here.¡± He still looked perplexed. I probably wasn¡¯t acting like he expected me to, but I had no idea how I was supposed to act. Without my memories, I was floating alone with a whole ocean of uncertainty threatening to swallow me whole.


    Gabriel was in the last cell, curled up on his side with a shoddy gray blanket half kicked off him and his arm slung over his eyes to block out the lights. It was pretty cruel to leave lights on overnight, but prisoner comfort never seemed to be a huge priority to the cops, for obvious reasons.


    ¡°Gabriel?¡± I approached the cell cautiously, afraid to touch the bars.


    He grumbled, lifting his arm, and peered at me through eyelids gluey with sleep. His normally tidy hair was sticking up at a thousand different angles. It looked like he hadn¡¯t washed it in a few days.


    Seeing him wrenched my heart, because it was the final confirmation of how far removed from my own reality I was. It felt like only weeks ago he¡¯d walked out of my life, and the heartbreak lingered fresh in my memory. But this Gabriel, the one staring at me from a police-station cot, was at least two or three years older than the man I remembered. He¡¯d lost the pleasant roundness in his face and was all lean muscle and cruel angles.


    ¡°Temple?¡±


    I wanted to cry. My bottom lip trembled, and I had to look away from him. This was the icing on the cake. Up until this point I¡¯d been able to coast by on pretending this was weird, but there had to be a simple explanation. A spell gone wrong, something that could be easily corrected and my life would magically snap back to normal.


    But my ex-boyfriend was in a cage, apparently for killing someone, and people I couldn¡¯t remember meeting were talking to me like they knew me. It was too much. I was a simple creature, problems were meant to be killed, and there was nothing here I could shoot at since some fat, bald cop had taken my gun away.


    Gabriel had risen and was standing by the cell door. He looked worried, but there was a peculiar twist to his expression. He wasn¡¯t looking at me like I was crazy. Instead his concern appeared to be born of the fear family.


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    My head shook without me telling it to, and I shrugged like an idiot. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t remember.¡±


    Gabriel¡¯s face went white. Not just pale, but true ashy-white. Dead white. ¡°What. Happened?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I screamed, my voice bouncing off the walls and making me sound more commanding than I meant to. ¡°I woke up at Columbia, and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Come here.¡± He was reaching through the cell bars, and his voice was forceful.


    I moved closer but stayed out of range of his hands. His eyes were a little too wild for me to trust him. Not to mention he was locked up for being a murderer. Didn¡¯t really bolster trust.


    ¡°You know something.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question. Gabriel¡¯s reactions spoke louder than words, and he¡¯d always been a terrible liar when he had to look me in the eyes.


    ¡°Did you talk to Mayhew?¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s Mayhew?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t remember?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Gabriel slammed his palms against the cell, making the metal door rattle. ¡°Fucking goddamn.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Did he touch you?¡±


    I wanted to reply with some tart, indignant comment about how I think I¡¯d remember if someone touched me, but I couldn¡¯t. I didn¡¯t remember anything. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Gabriel, tell me what¡¯s going on.¡±

 Page 27

    He opened his mouth but nothing came out. His lips tried to form words, but after several failed attempts, he let out a defeated cough. ¡°I can¡¯t. I can¡¯t tell you anything.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing down here?¡± Mercedes had joined us at some point, but I hadn¡¯t heard her enter. She wore a men¡¯s plaid shirt and a battered pair of blue jeans tucked into a pair of Sorel winter boots. She hadn¡¯t bothered to brush her hair, and it was borderline afro in size and curl volume.


    ¡°Gabriel¡¯s been arrested.¡± I pointed to the man in the cell.


    ¡°I know.¡± Behind her, the dark-haired detective was watching us quietly. ¡°You remember Gabriel?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Do you remember Tyler?¡± She nodded at Detective Sexypants.


    ¡°Should I?¡±


    Cedes nodded. ¡°You¡¯ve known him for a while.¡±


    I backed up to the empty cell behind me and slid to the floor, pulling my knees up to my chest. Gabriel was still standing at the bars of his cell, and his expression could only be described in one way. Guilt. He looked so guilty it made me want to hurt him.


    ¡°What do you know?¡± I tried to infuse as much menace as possible into my words, but they came out strained and desperate. ¡°You need to help me.¡±


    He shook his head and slunk back into the cell, stumbling against the edge of his cot. Once he was sitting, he wouldn¡¯t meet my eyes again and kept muttering, ¡°I can¡¯t. I can¡¯t.¡±


    Mercedes sat next to me and placed her arm around my shoulders. Tyler stood in the door with his arms crossed and continued to act as a silent observer. I suspected he wanted to say something but was demonstrating exceptional restraint by keeping his mouth shut.


    ¡°I called Lucas,¡± Cedes said. ¡°He¡¯s on his way to come get you.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t thrilled about the idea of trusting a guy I didn¡¯t know, but I was willing to do just about anything at this point if it meant I wouldn¡¯t feel helpless anymore.


    ¡°Why did you come to see Gabriel?¡± she asked again.


    ¡°Because I know him.¡±


    She nodded, her hand tightening on my shoulder. ¡°You think he knows what¡¯s happening to you?¡±


    I stared into the cell, but Gabriel wouldn¡¯t face us. ¡°He looks guilty.¡±


    ¡°He is guilty,¡± Tyler interjected, breaking his silence.


    Mercedes glared at him. ¡°Not the best time, Novak.¡±


    Tyler grunted and returned to the antechamber where I¡¯d left my weapons. I leaned into Mercedes and let her familiar scent make me feel as normal as I could right then. She stroked my hair, and we sat quietly for a good ten minutes before being interrupted again.


    A man entered the room, and the moment I laid eyes on him my pulse quickened. My whole body screamed at me that I knew this man and he belonged to me. Yet my brain drew a total blank. He was tall, but not as tall as Tyler, and where the latter was dark-haired, the new man was blond, his blue eyes shining with worry.


    He was so damned pretty it hurt. No wonder my body wanted to lay claim to him.


    ¡°Secret?¡± he ventured tentatively. ¡°Do you know who I am?¡±


    God, I wished I could say yes. Instead I admitted, ¡°No.¡±


    The man exchanged worried looks with Mercedes. ¡°How long has she been like this?¡±


    ¡°She called me just after one.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the last thing you remember?¡± he asked me.


    I tried to recall, but whenever I thought I could hold down a memory it would slip through my fingers like smoke. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°She remembers me and Keats. And she remembers Gabriel.¡±


    The new man, presumably Lucas, seemed to notice Gabriel for the first time. ¡°Why would she remember this guy? Does she even know him?¡±


    ¡°She and Gabe here go way back,¡± Cedes said, with a little more emphasis than she needed to. Lucas definitely got the gist of how well Gabriel and I knew each other. If he and I were really a couple, we apparently hadn¡¯t gotten around to chatting about our past relationships.


    Judging by the stink eye Lucas was giving Gabriel, it might have been a good thing we hadn¡¯t discussed our former lovers. Lucas looked to be the jealous type.


    ¡°He knows something,¡± I said again, sounding more than a smidgeon on the crazy side. Gabriel had raised his head finally, but now he and Lucas were locked in a staring contest. There were a lot of unspoken threats being bandied back and forth. The air was thick with testosterone. ¡°He knows what¡¯s wrong with me.¡±


    That got through to Lucas. He broke eye contact with Gabriel long enough to look at Cedes and I again. ¡°Detective Castilla, would you mind if Gabriel and I had a word? Under supervision, of course.¡± He pointed to the closed-circuit cameras mounted in each corner of the room. Cedes hesitated like she might refuse him but finally nodded and pulled me to my feet.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to be out in the hall,¡± she told him.


    ¡°Understood.¡±


    Chapter Twenty-Three


    If I¡¯d been in my right mind, I would have known what a bad idea it was to leave Lucas alone with Gabriel.


    From the chair Cedes had propped me in, I couldn¡¯t see Lucas or Gabriel, but I had no problem hearing them. Lucas¡¯s voice was soft but commanding, the voice of a born politician. Gabriel¡¯s tone had an edge of worry to it, overpowering his usual cocky certainty. They hadn¡¯t gotten beyond the awkward greetings and already Lucas had my ex all wound up. Impressive.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Gabriel asked.


    ¡°I want to know what you did to her.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± The word was a nervous squeak. ¡°How could I do anything? I¡¯m in here.¡±


    Metal groaned and footsteps skittered across concrete.


    ¡°She may not remember anything, but she says you know something. I¡¯ll take her word over yours any day.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s crazy.¡±


    Gee, Gabe, thanks for the vote of confidence.


    ¡°Tell me what you know.¡±


    My gaze flicked to the on-duty officer. He was watching the closed-circuit feed with great interest but made no moves to go into the room. Mercedes was on her cell phone, but I couldn¡¯t listen in on her conversation without losing focus on Lucas and Gabriel¡¯s.


    ¡°Look, you¡¯re a powerful guy, right? Rich, good-looking.¡± Gabriel¡¯s voice had changed again. It was smoother now, the crooning song of a con man. He¡¯d used that voice when we first met. He wasn¡¯t scared anymore, because he¡¯d spotted a weakness in Lucas and now he wanted to exploit it. I knew Gabriel too well to mistake his intentions for anything else.


    Lucas didn¡¯t reply, but Gabriel continued undeterred. ¡°What are you doing with a girl like Secret?¡±


    ¡°I love her.¡±


    My stomach tightened, and aching pain stabbed me in the abdomen. Why did hearing Lucas¡¯s words make me feel so guilty?


    ¡°I love her too,¡± Gabriel said, but the snort at the end made me believe otherwise.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know her.¡±


    ¡°I know her better than you.¡±


    Lucas snarled, a purely animal sound that made the hair on my arms and neck stand on end. Both Cedes and the desk officer looked a little on edge.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think so?¡± Gabriel asked.


    ¡°I know you don¡¯t.¡±


    I could almost hear Gabriel¡¯s self-assured smile, and it made me shiver. What was he thinking? He didn¡¯t know my biggest secret, so I didn¡¯t have to worry about him spilling that. So what was he dangling over Lucas¡¯s head?


    ¡°You come from a big family, Mr. Rain?¡±


    Again Lucas didn¡¯t answer him.


    ¡°Guy like you,¡± Gabriel persisted. ¡°Lots of money, proud family name. You strike me as a guy who would want kids.¡±


    My blood ran cold, and I was suddenly unable to breathe. He wouldn¡¯t.


    Cedes saw my reaction, but since she couldn¡¯t hear their conversation, she had no way to know why I was overcome by panic.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± She crouched in front of me, taking hold of my clammy hands. ¡°Jesus, Secret, you¡¯re freezing.¡±


    I wanted to tell her to shush, but I couldn¡¯t move even to speak. My whole being was trained on hearing what Gabriel said next.


    ¡°Of course I want kids,¡± Lucas said.


    ¡°I hope you don¡¯t want them with her.¡±


    Son of a bitch. He was really going to do it.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    My feet remembered how to function, and I stumbled through the door so quickly I almost tripped over myself. I stopped next to Lucas, our sides touching, but the warmth from his body did nothing to stave off the cold I felt.


    ¡°Gabe, don¡¯t.¡±


    Gabriel smiled at me, and there was a twinge of sadness in the turn of his mouth. It was as if he didn¡¯t want to be saying the things he was saying. So why didn¡¯t he shut the hell up?


    ¡°What¡¯s he talking about?¡± Lucas repeated the question, this time to me.


    ¡°You gonna tell him, Temple, or should I?¡± Gabriel winced as he spoke.


    ¡°Why are you doing this?¡± I asked him.


    ¡°Tell him,¡± he commanded.


    I wanted to vomit. He was insisting I share something with Lucas¡ªa stranger to me¡ªthat I didn¡¯t want to remember myself. My fear transformed into rage, a hatred so big it felt like a living entity. The glare I fixed on Gabriel did nothing to dissuade him.


    ¡°Do you want kids, Secret?¡± Gabriel asked. ¡°A big pack of rugrats underfoot?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± I warned.


    ¡°Want to be a mom? Start a family with the billionaire here? He looks like good dad material. Think of the nice blond Aryan babies you two would pop out.¡±


    ¡°Gabriel, shut up.¡±


    ¡°Too bad you can¡¯t.¡±


    I froze. Lucas went rigid. We both stared at Gabriel. I didn¡¯t know what Lucas was thinking, but I was wondering if there was any way I could get through the bars and throttle my ex to death before someone stopped me.


    ¡°God-fucking-damn you, Gabriel Holbrook.¡± I slammed my hands against the bars, rattling the metal. ¡°I hope you go straight to Hell.¡±

 Page 28

    Gabriel slumped down on his mattress, looking downright ashen. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± he said. ¡°I already am.¡±


    Once I had my gun and knife back it didn¡¯t take much convincing for me to let Lucas drive me home. I might not remember him, but it was plain he knew me, and I owed him an explanation about what had happened at the station.


    I had to admit Lucas must know me well because he let me sit in silence the whole ride home. A pretty yellow BMW convertible was parked in front of my apartment. The owner was either brave or stupid to leave such a nice car in my neighborhood overnight.


    Lucas found a vacant spot farther down the block and parked his car. He left the engine running and shifted in his seat to look at me.


    ¡°Can we talk about this?¡± he asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s late.¡±


    ¡°I know. You¡¯ll be inside before sunrise, don¡¯t worry.¡±


    Now it was my turn to stare at him. He knew? My stunned appearance said more than words. He nodded. ¡°Yeah, I know what you are.¡±


    ¡°Oh. When did I get so cavalier about telling people?¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t have much of a choice at the time. Sort of a do-or-die situation. I¡¯m starting to think there¡¯s a lot of stuff you wouldn¡¯t tell me given the choice.¡±


    The heat vent was suddenly fascinating.


    ¡°How serious are we?¡± I asked him.


    ¡°Very.¡±


    I flicked the vent closed, then back open. The hot air was now angled right in my face.


    ¡°And are you always upfront with me?¡±


    He hesitated. ¡°No.¡±


    At least he was being honest. ¡°Have we ever talked about having kids?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he said again.


    I nodded, still looking at the heat vent. ¡°I can¡¯t have kids.¡±


    Lucas took hold of my hand, forcing me to stop playing with the vent and to look at him instead. He appeared tired and sad. ¡°How do you know?¡±


    ¡°When I was nineteen, Gabriel and I¡­ I got pregnant. That¡¯s when he moved in. He was really excited. I wasn¡¯t¡­ I mean.¡± I sighed and met Lucas¡¯s piercing gaze. ¡°I didn¡¯t know how it would work, with my blood the way it is.¡±


    He bobbed his head and squeezed my hand. I didn¡¯t want to continue. The memory still felt fresh thanks to whatever spell I was under, and it wasn¡¯t something I liked to share.


    ¡°One night I woke up and I just knew. It hurt like hell, but there was no blood. My body¡­absorbed the baby.¡± My breath shuddered on the last word. ¡°I told Gabriel I¡¯d miscarried. I think he wanted to try again, but I managed to convince him the doctors were against it. I¡¯ve been on the pill since to make sure it never happens again.¡±


    Turning from Lucas, I looked out the window at the rows of silent, dark apartments lining the block. So many normal human lives going about their business, sleeping without the burdens of my world on their heads.


    Lucas¡¯s grip was painfully tight on my hand.


    ¡°Now you know,¡± I said. ¡°I really am a freak.¡±


    Instead of looking disgusted, he appeared to be thinking. There was a faint hint of disappointment wrinkling the corners of his eyes, but he didn¡¯t say anything to confirm what he was feeling. He tugged me closer and wrapped me in a smothering hug.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± His words rumbled against my cheek. Although I didn¡¯t remember him, his scent and embrace felt familiar and comforting. Being held was nice. ¡°I didn¡¯t choose you because of your breeding potential. I chose you because you¡¯re my mate. You¡¯re meant to be with me. Anything else is secondary.¡± The words sounded forced, but I wanted to believe him.


    ¡°Now,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s go let Desmond know you¡¯re okay.¡±


    I sat back, giving him a genuinely puzzled look. ¡°Who¡¯s Desmond?¡±


    Chapter Twenty-Four


    My lullaby while I attempted to sleep was the sound of Lucas and Desmond arguing in the living room as I buried myself under a comforter and pretended I couldn¡¯t hear every word through the tissue-thin walls. My introduction¡ªor reintroduction¡ªto Desmond hadn¡¯t magically restored my memories, but it had managed to convince me I was totally insane.


    The first thing I¡¯d noticed when I walked into my apartment was the biting flavor of lime in my mouth. First I¡¯d thought it was from some god-awful air freshener, but when I commented on it, I was told it was part of my connection to Desmond.


    Sure, the dark-haired hottie with violet-gray eyes was the very picture of a man I¡¯d like to engage in some quality one-on-one bedroom time with, but that didn¡¯t change the fact I couldn¡¯t remember who he was. He¡¯d been polite as Lucas explained what he thought was wrong with me, and after a minute or two they seemed to have forgotten I was in the room.


    Memories of my apartment hadn¡¯t vanished, so I found my way to my bedroom and was relieved to discover nothing had changed. Nothing except the lingering fragrance of Desmond clinging to each object in the room. He was all over the sheets, permeating the air as if he had touched everything.


    He probably had.


    I was getting the feeling Mercedes didn¡¯t have all the right intel on my relationship status. She clearly believed Lucas was my boyfriend, as did he, but if that was the case, why was Desmond a permanent fixture in my bed?


    Oh God, had I turned into a slut?


    Once I¡¯d stripped down, leaving on the Yankees shirt I¡¯d been wearing, I dug under the covers and listened to my two supposed men bicker like an old married couple.


    ¡°Did you ever stop to consider maybe she¡¯s experiencing some sort of psychological breakdown thanks to your little mating stunt?¡± Desmond¡¯s voice was hushed but angry.


    ¡°Are you fucking kidding me?¡± The shuffling sounds of pacing footsteps on carpet came to a standstill. I found myself wishing Lucas had taken his shoes off when we¡¯d come through the door. All his pacing was probably dragging snowy muck through my already-shitty carpet.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t think this could be your fault. You never think it¡¯s your fault. You¡¯re so fucking untouchable.¡±


    ¡°Get a grip. This isn¡¯t my fault. She¡¯s under some kind of spell.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯d know a thing or two about keeping her under a spell.¡±


    There was a long pause, but I could hear their harsh, ragged breathing if I listened hard enough.


    ¡°What is that supposed to mean?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°No, Desmond. Speak up. You obviously have something to say to me.¡± Lucas¡¯s voice simmered with a quiet rage that made my hair stand at attention.


    ¡°You treat her like she¡¯s something you own. When she ran, you let that vampire use magic to bring her home against her will. When you were worried she cared more about me, you abused your power and forced the bond on her. Well guess what? She still loves me more.¡±


    The meaty crack of a fist meeting flesh filled the air instead of an awkward silence.


    Lucas spoke first. ¡°You know why I had to do that.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t a question, but Desmond answered anyway. ¡°I was out of line.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t easy for me, either, you know. I know she loves you more. That¡¯s not the point, though, and you know it. We need her as queen or everything falls apart. I¡¯m not ignoring your feelings, Des, I just can¡¯t make them my priority.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°We discussed this. You knew if the bond manifested I was always going to claim the mate. If I let you have her, the pack would see it as a weakness.¡±


    Desmond cleared his throat, then cracked his jaw. ¡°What about what she wants?¡±


    ¡°What about it? She¡¯s coming around. Soon she¡¯ll understand we all need to do what¡¯s best for the pack. Anything else is selfish.¡±


    At some point I¡¯d sat up and thrown my legs over the edge of the bed. They discussed my future like it was something I had no say in. Throwing around words like queen and mate as if I were real royalty and my fate was already sealed. If that was the case, I wanted out of this weird, fucked-up version of what my life had become.


    ¡°You can¡¯t decide someone else¡¯s future for them, Lucas.¡±


    ¡°Secret has a duty to this pack.¡±


    ¡°And your feelings for her as a person mean nothing?¡±


    ¡°Are you questioning my feelings for her? Do I need to remind you you¡¯re only here because I allow it? Don¡¯t question me, Desmond. I can make sure you never lay eyes on her again.¡±


    The silence that followed gutted me.


    I¡¯d had enough. My only duty was to look out for myself.


    ¡°If the two of you don¡¯t shut the hell up, I can make sure neither of you ever lay eyes on me again.¡± I didn¡¯t have to yell. They heard me fine.


    The next night I awoke feeling like I had been skull fucked by something with a monstrous three-pronged penis that leaked acid.


    I felt awesome.


    ¡°Oh, fuck my life,¡± I groaned, smacking my alarm clock onto the ground so the neon numbers would stop burning my eyes.


    ¡°You kiss your mother with that mouth?¡± Desmond asked from the bedroom door.


    ¡°No, but I¡¯d tell her to go fuck herself with this mouth.¡± If that was his idea of testing me, he picked a poor barometer. My hatred for my mother was sort of a lifelong deal.


    ¡°How do you feel?¡±


    I threw my pillow over my head. When I spoke next, my words were muffled. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    The bed shifted, and he tentatively placed a hand on my hip. When I didn¡¯t recoil, he lay down next to me and lifted the pillow off my face. ¡°You¡¯re you?¡±


    ¡°I was always me, I just had cheesecloth for a memory.¡±


    ¡°So you remember last night?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately.¡±


    ¡°All of it?¡±


    ¡°I remember going to the morgue with Brigit and Nolan, I got sexually harassed by a British professor with a limp, then Lucas got to spend some quality time with my ex-boyfriend, and I capped it all off with King Rain telling you he didn¡¯t give two shits about our feelings so long as we stayed in line with our duty. Did I miss anything?¡±

 Page 29

    ¡°We had a shower together.¡± He kissed the back of my neck.


    ¡°And you told me I stank.¡±


    ¡°Yup. Your memory is fine.¡±


    I rolled over so we were nose to nose. I hated myself for being able to forget him. Whatever Mayhew had done to me in his office when he stole that kiss, he was clearly the responsible party. What¡¯s more, I was now convinced he and Gabriel were in league together and both played a part in killing those coeds. Gabriel had been telling the truth when he told me he hadn¡¯t killed them, but he was still culpable for their deaths, and I was going to figure out how.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said.


    ¡°For what?¡± His eyes were closed, and he was absently brushing kisses over my cheeks and nose.


    ¡°For forgetting you.¡±


    Desmond opened his eyes, and his gaze locked with mine.


    I continued, ¡°And for Lucas. He doesn¡¯t get to decide what you and I do.¡±


    He grimaced. ¡°He can keep us apart. That wasn¡¯t a hollow threat.¡±


    ¡°Only I have the right to kick you out of our home.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mean the apartment, Secret. He can move me to another pack within his territory. Or, if he¡¯s really serious, he can petition another king and have me sent somewhere else in the country.¡±


    ¡°He wouldn¡¯t do that.¡± I wasn¡¯t so sure, though.


    Instead of shooting my faux hope down, he kissed the tip of my nose and pulled me against him, the warmth of his body lulling me into a false sense of security. ¡°Let¡¯s not give him a reason.¡±


    ¡°Is that your way of telling me I have to go to this little party of his tonight and smile pretty for the visiting pack?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Are you coming?¡±


    He kissed me. It might have been a distraction, but it was a welcome one. I slid my leg over his thigh and angled my pelvis towards his as the kiss deepened. He rolled me on top of him and arched his hips up to rub against me. I¡¯d just found the button of his pants when he grabbed my wrist and broke away from the kiss with a moan.


    ¡°We can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Sure we can.¡± I popped the button and unzipped his fly. At least one part of him was very interested in us continuing on this path. He shifted, his hardness pressing against the thin material of my underwear, then he gently pushed me off him. ¡°Tease.¡±


    ¡°You have a party to get ready for, and I don¡¯t think it would look too good if you showed up smelling like sex.¡±


    He had a point. Unfortunately it wasn¡¯t one I could put inside me.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t coming, are you?¡±


    He chuckled. ¡°Sadly, no. Maybe after you go.¡±


    I hit him with the pillow as I got out of bed.


    Chapter Twenty-Five


    My outfit might have been overkill.


    I wore a slinky silver sheath, as low-cut as it was short. Everywhere I looked in the mirror there was more skin. My legs and arms were bare, and the dress had a deep scoop in the back. I made it somewhat respectable by putting a black velvet blazer on over top, but when I put on the black suede ankle boots with four-inch heels, respectability went back out the window.


    I was playing with a platinum cuff bracelet when I walked into the living room. ¡°Does this outfit make me look like a hooker?¡±


    When Desmond didn¡¯t reply I raised my head and got the full benefit of his slack-jawed stare. The man had seen me fully naked and done things to me that would make a Penthouse Letters editor blush, but he was looking at me now like I was some new, enticing toy.


    ¡°Wow.¡±


    ¡°Good wow, or hooker wow?¡± I twirled, showing him the back.


    ¡°I changed my mind. You¡¯re not allowed to go.¡±


    ¡°Pff. I put on makeup. I¡¯m going out.¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯re totally having sex.¡± He lunged for me, grabbing my waist and dipping me backwards for a dramatic, spine-bending kiss. I¡¯d left my hair down, and it grazed the floor. When he came up for air, I disentangled myself from him.


    ¡°You can defile me all you want when I get home. Duty calls.¡± What I didn¡¯t tell him was that I had other plans for tonight. Being at Columbia would give me an opportunity to snoop around in Mayhew¡¯s office, see if I could get some evidence of his connection to the dead girls so I could steer Cedes and Tyler in the right direction. I was also going to need to call Cedes and give her some excuse to use with Tyler to explain my insane behavior the night before.


    Again it crossed my mind I might be better off telling Tyler the truth. I believed he could handle it, and it would make my life easier to not need to lie to him. But when I tried to imagine all of the questions he would have and how I¡¯d never be able to answer them all honestly, I didn¡¯t think I could go through with it.


    Tonight I was going to need help, but not the human variety. And unfortunately for Desmond and Lucas, I needed a vampire. One neither of them was terribly fond of.


    The gala at Columbia started at eight sharp, meaning I still had an hour before I needed to meet Lucas there. When he¡¯d called earlier to find out if I was myself again, he¡¯d sounded more than a little relieved to find out I still planned to join him. If I was being totally honest with myself, he¡¯d sounded more relieved about that than he¡¯d been to discover I¡¯d recovered my memory.


    Nice.


    He¡¯d invited me to meet him at the hotel so we could arrive together, but I put the kibosh on that idea pretty quickly. I had a stop to make first, and there was no way in hell I was bringing him along with me for it.


    In all the years Holden had acted as my liaison for the council, I¡¯d never had a reason to call on him at home. I knew where he lived, of course, but going to his apartment had always seemed like a line I shouldn¡¯t cross.


    Things had changed, though. He was no longer in charge of me, and as his superior I didn¡¯t think the same rules of propriety applied anymore.


    Our relationship hadn¡¯t been proper for quite some time now.


    Holden lived in a rent-controlled SoHo loft not too far from Rain Hotel. If New Yorkers ever wondered why rent-controlled apartments were almost impossible to find, the reality was they were greedily protected by the cheap undead.


    I circled the block three times before I found a parking space.


    Holden¡¯s loft was one of two on the sixth floor of an old brick beast of an apartment block. The building¡¯s elevator was in a sorry state of disrepair, leaving me to hike up the cruddy, cracked tile stairs in my Stella McCartney boots. The clomping sounds were really stealthy. No way a two-century-old vampire would hear me coming.


    The vampire in question had graciously left his front door open.


    ¡°Oh, just you?¡± He was leaning against the frame of the floor-to-ceiling windows running the length of the back wall. ¡°I figured you¡¯d have a pack of elephants with you.¡±


    I closed the door behind me and surveyed his domain. The room was massive, no surprise since his suite took up half of the sixth floor. The floor had been refinished in a blond hardwood, and the walls were painted green-gray. On the far side of the room was a wall of Japanese-style paper-screen sliding doors. I was willing to bet he had a sun-safe sleep chamber back there somewhere.


    ¡°Looking for the bedroom?¡± he asked, giving me a sly smirk.


    ¡°Yeah. Where do you keep your coffin? Or are you strictly a black-satin-sheets-on-a-four-poster-bed kind of cliche?¡±


    ¡°Are you asking for an invitation?¡± His grin faded and he gave me the once-over, his gaze trailing and lingering the way some men might use their hands.


    I shivered. ¡°I came to talk business.¡±


    He pushed away from the windows and crossed the room in quick, easy strides until he was standing in front of me. Instinct told me to step back, but I fought against it. We might be in his house, but according to hierarchy, I was the biggest, baddest vampire here. Tribunal leaders don¡¯t let sentries intimidate them.


    Bastard was testing me.


    ¡°Does the business have anything to do with our little bargain, by any chance?¡±


    Ever since I¡¯d agreed to spend the night with him, I¡¯d known my relationship with him sat on a ticking time bomb.


    My breath hitched in my throat, and he definitely noticed.


    ¡°No. And don¡¯t hold your damned breath on that either.¡±


    ¡°As you¡¯ve mentioned on several occasions, I have no need to hold my breath.¡± His smile was thin and predatory. It gave me a chill that had nothing to do with fear.


    ¡°I¡¯m not here for that,¡± I whispered.


    ¡°Then perhaps you should get to the point.¡± He dipped his head so his lips were against my ear and the tip of one sharp fang grazed the lobe. Under normal circumstances I might have found it erotic, but it slammed me back into the memory of being under Mayhew¡¯s spell the previous night.


    I pressed a palm flat against Holden¡¯s sternum and pushed him back. My hand was trembling.


    ¡°I need you to come with me tonight.¡±


    He caught my wrist in his hand and pressed his thumb against my throbbing pulse. His nostrils flared, and inky blackness made his pupils double in size. Anyone who didn¡¯t know the signs would think he was exhibiting telltale hunger pangs. They¡¯d be wrong. He was smelling my fear.


    I tried to pull away, but he held fast.


    ¡°What are you scared of?¡±


    ¡°I think I know who might have taken Lucy.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°Her Medieval Literature professor. Oliver Mayhew.¡±


    ¡°I thought you talked to him already.¡±


    Looking past Holden into the wide space of his living room, I focused on the giant black-and-white photo canvases hanging on the back wall. Anything so I didn¡¯t have to meet his eyes. The evocative prints were lurid enough to make a Bosch painting blush.


    It took me a moment to realize one of the nude men¡ªwith several female arms of varying skin tones wrapped around his most private parts¡ªwas Holden himself.


    ¡°Is that a Mapplethorpe?¡± I asked, pointing to the huge print.


    ¡°Secret, Robert Mapplethorpe didn¡¯t kidnap Lucy. He died in 1989.¡± He forcefully turned my face back to him. ¡°Why do you think Mayhew has her?¡±

 Page 30

    ¡°I went to see him again last night.¡±


    Holden¡¯s fingers gripped my chin so hard it hurt. ¡°Why would you go back alone if you thought he was guilty of something?¡±


    ¡°I thought he was human.¡±


    ¡°He isn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Not unless a human can strike me immobile without any force. No human can do what he did.¡±


    The vampire released my face and took my hand up again, holding it between his two lukewarm palms. ¡°Did he¡­hurt you?¡±


    Deep black pools overwhelmed the chocolate brown of Holden¡¯s eyes until all that was left were bottomless pits of darkness. He was beyond mad.


    ¡°He stole my memories. Years of my life vanished. But, no, I don¡¯t think he did anything to me physically. Except kiss me.¡±


    Holden growled, and suddenly he was back across the room, facing the window.


    ¡°You can¡¯t put yourself at risk like that.¡±


    Anger bubbled inside me, but I bit my tongue against the tide of curses that wanted to spew out of my mouth. I was being indignant. He was right, after all. My life wasn¡¯t my own anymore. I had responsibilities to Lucas¡¯s pack, and more importantly I was at the head of one of the biggest vampire organizations in the world.


    This was why Sig didn¡¯t want me running around in the streets with Shane, putting myself in harm¡¯s way.


    Only now was I fully aware of how selfish I had been. I might have pretended I was doing it to save Lucy or find out the truth about who killed Trish and the others, but the honest fact was I wanted to be on the hunt again. Just like I¡¯d wanted to be out for the kill last night when I¡¯d chased the vampire with Shane. It wasn¡¯t the hunter I wanted to help. I¡¯d wanted the hunt itself.


    I let out my breath in a huff. ¡°That¡¯s why I need you now.¡±


    With his arms braced against the wooden frame of the window I was afraid he might crack the glass. He was rigid with tension, his whole body vibrating with unspent energy.


    ¡°You need to swear to me you won¡¯t do this ever again.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t owe you any promises, Holden.¡±


    He turned, and his expression was all it took to knock me back a few steps. For all the bravado and posturing, the mood swings and the flirting, I wasn¡¯t sure I¡¯d ever seen him look the way he did right now. His features were drawn and tight as though he were racked with pain. The man had seen me nearly beaten to death, but he¡¯d never once looked at me with such concern.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be stubborn.¡±


    ¡°Why, will you try duping me into sleeping with you if I don¡¯t agree?¡± I was trying to lighten the mood, but he didn¡¯t so much as crack a smile.


    After a tense pause, he shook his head. ¡°I already did that.¡±


    I gave him a weak grin. ¡°So, quit your bitching. You going to help me or not?¡±


    ¡°What do you need?¡±


    ¡°I need someone to carry my gun. Someone to back me up when I go snooping around Mayhew¡¯s office tonight.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re awfully dressed up for a break-and-enter.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the other thing.¡±


    He arched a brow.


    ¡°I need you to not say a single goddamn word to Lucas tonight.¡±


    Chapter Twenty-Six


    We arrived at Columbia a half hour later after Holden had traded his casual duds for a designer suit. He had my gun tucked into the back of his pants, but he¡¯d insisted on checking the safety forty or fifty times before he¡¯d acquiesced to hiding it there.


    Guess he was worried about accidentally taking a silver bullet in the ass.


    The newly constructed Rain School of Business had replaced an old dormitory that had burned down the previous summer. Nestled between another dorm hall and an aging Chemistry building, the new building looked far too shiny and ostentatious.


    ¡°Someone¡¯s overcompensating,¡± Holden scoffed.


    ¡°You¡¯re a regular comedian, Chancery. Get it out of your system now.¡±


    He shrugged, but I could still see the glimmer of mirth in his eyes. This night was destined to be nothing but trouble. What had I been thinking, bringing Holden to a party where I was supposed to be showing the Southern packs what a good little mate I was to Lucas?


    ¡°I¡¯m serious,¡± I warned. ¡°There are people here tonight who could spell a lot of trouble for Lucas¡¯s pack.¡± When those words didn¡¯t seem to get through to him, I stopped walking and jabbed a finger into his chest. ¡°Trouble for Lucas is trouble for me.¡±


    Holden raised both palms in a gesture of surrender. ¡°I get it. Play nice with the dogs.¡±


    ¡°And whatever you do, don¡¯t say that. There are visiting emissaries from my uncle¡¯s pack here, and I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll laugh off your slurs quite the same way. Lucas can¡¯t have a vampire belittling him on his own turf. It would¡ª¡±


    ¡°Secret. I get it. You don¡¯t need to explain to me the finer points of pack politics. I¡¯m a vampire. I know how ridiculous supernatural society can be. I¡¯ll behave.¡±


    ¡°Sorry.¡± I blushed faintly. ¡°And thank you.¡±


    Ahead of us a small group of people entered the brightly lit building. They were dressed in tuxedos and evening dresses, and a few of the women were sporting fur coats. I¡¯d forgotten I was supposed to dress for the cold and had worn only my velvet blazer. Holden, similarly, wore only his suit jacket. We earned a few sideways glances when we merged with the crowd going in.


    ¡°So glad we found a parking spot so close,¡± I commented, laughing.


    Holden shook his head like it wouldn¡¯t have occurred to him to make an effort to explain our lack of outerwear. ¡°Yes. How lucky.¡±


    Inside the door there was a coat check set up, and we split away from the rest of the group as they debated the safety of leaving their expensive furs with a twenty-something coat-check girl who was snapping her chewing gum.


    At the top of the stairs was a huge atrium that served as the hub of the school. From where we stood, all the different annexes, stairwells and main lecture theaters were within easy access. In the center of the atrium was a bronze bust depicting Jeremiah Rain, and the plaque underneath read, A man¡¯s worth is not measured in money, but in the ability to earn what is his.¡ªJ. Rain.


    Then, further proving the creepy qualities of our new mate bond, I felt Lucas¡¯s presence from across the room. It was still strange to me to be without the cinnamon flavor in my mouth, but being able to sense another person without seeing them was entirely new. It was as though he was a light bulb and I was a moth. The lingering warmth of him pulled me through the growing crowd until I was on the opposite side of the atrium. Holden had waited at the stairs.


    Lucas turned as the people closest to him moved aside, and we both stood stock-still about fifteen feet away from each other. He drank in my appearance, and I held my breath. I hadn¡¯t known until right then how much I cared about what he thought of my outfit. When his cheeks flushed and his lips parted in a soundless sigh, the message was clear.


    He said it anyway. ¡°You look fucking amazing.¡±


    An old lady nearby heard his curse and shot him a withering glare. He didn¡¯t notice her. Instead he looped me in his arms and pulled me close. I¡¯d expected a peck on the cheek, but instead he greeted me with an openmouthed, hungry kiss that turned my spine to a limp noodle and forced me to hold his forearms for balance when my ankles wobbled. He came up for air and noticed for the first time we¡¯d attracted a bit of an audience.


    He kissed my cheek for good measure before letting me go, then switched effortlessly into his public persona. A young man and a middle-aged woman stood closest to us, and Lucas angled me in their direction. The man was twenty if he was a day. He looked more likely to still be in his late teens. It was obvious his hair tended towards the curly side, but it had been cropped close to his head, giving him a messy bedhead look that defied control. The suit he wore was expensive, but he seemed uncomfortable in it.


    The woman, on the other hand, appeared as if she¡¯d been born with a broomstick surgically inserted up her rectum. Her posture was so perfect and her expression so sour, I wasn¡¯t sure whether to laugh or apologize.


    ¡°Amelia, it¡¯s my absolute pleasure to introduce you to my mate, Miss Secret McQueen.¡±


    So these were Callum¡¯s people. It was brave of Lucas to use a phrase like mate within earshot of a hundred humans, no matter how low his tone could get.


    Amelia offered me her version of a smile, which was a less-frigid version of her frown. ¡°Amelia Laurent,¡± she said, shaking my hand. ¡°And this is Ben McQueen.¡±


    The young man nodded brusquely, then shook my hand a little too hard. ¡°Hi,¡± he barked.


    So Callum had sent family up for this meeting? I couldn¡¯t tell if that was a good sign or not. Ben must have been Callum¡¯s son, or my aunt Savannah¡¯s. I was taken aback, wondering how many relations I had down south who I didn¡¯t even know existed. Ben looked equally mystified by me. Although he¡¯d stopped staring at me once our handshake ended, I saw the less-than-subtle glances he kept sneaking in my direction.


    ¡°A pleasure to meet you both,¡± I said. ¡°Lucas and I do so appreciate you making the long trip up here so we could¡­chat.¡±


    Lucas rested his hand on my lower back, and I could feel the tension spark when I spoke. He was definitely worried about me saying the wrong thing. I couldn¡¯t blame him. There was no filter between my mouth and my brain, and one wrong word to Amelia could inadvertently start a war.


    I scanned the crowd as Lucas relieved me of conversational duties. Holden had moved to the bar and was chatting with a pretty Asian girl in a bright red dress. She thought he was hilarious, because she kept giggling and tossing her shiny black hair back, exposing her throat. I knew Holden, he wasn¡¯t that funny.


    Near the makeshift stage, Dominick was talking to another familiar-looking werewolf whose name I couldn¡¯t recall off-hand, which meant he was from an outlying pack. Dom saw me looking and jerked his chin up in greeting. I smiled. The smile died shortly thereafter when my wandering gaze met a steely glare across the foyer. Morgan, wearing a green floor-length dress slit almost all the way up to her crotch, was scowling at me.

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    ¡°Do you agree, Miss McQueen?¡± Amelia¡¯s Southern accent cut through my staring contest with the petty little bitch across the room.


    I had no idea what was being discussed. Turning to Lucas, he smiled at me and offered the slightest nod.


    ¡°Oh, absolutely,¡± I replied, pretending I wasn¡¯t lost.


    ¡°Yes. As a pack we are stronger than ever since I found Secret.¡±


    Like I was a lost sock. Amelia¡¯s smile mirrored mine: forced and humorless. ¡°Callum will be delighted to know it. Certainly, though, you might want to spread the word of your pack¡¯s strength and unity to the pack itself.¡± She cocked her head to the side, practically daring Lucas to react to her words. ¡°I mean, if your pack was really so strong, we wouldn¡¯t be having this conversation, would we?¡±


    To his credit, Lucas forced a smile. I would have slapped her. Lucas¡¯s smile didn¡¯t falter as he said, ¡°Perhaps, Ms. Laurent, it would be advisable to let me run my kingdom as I see fit. I¡¯m sure Callum didn¡¯t send you here to make suggestions on his behalf.¡±


    Amelia didn¡¯t have a response, but Ben¡¯s faint smirk told me he was enjoying seeing her put in her place. I bet she was a real peach to travel with.


    ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me, ladies.¡± He nodded to Ben. ¡°And gentleman. It¡¯s time for me to make a short speech. But I think you¡¯ll all enjoy it.¡± Lucas kissed my hair and squeezed my arm. ¡°Don¡¯t run away.¡±


    What he was really saying was, ¡°Don¡¯t say anything stupid while I¡¯m gone.¡±


    As soon as Lucas left, Dominick came to stand between me and the new arrivals, buffering me from their chilly demeanor.


    ¡°Hey, kid,¡± he said, elbowing my ribs.


    ¡°Hey yourself.¡± He earned my first unguarded smile of the night.


    Lucas took the stage, standing behind a glass podium. In his black Brooks Brothers suit and a blue silk tie that made his eyes impossibly bright, he looked so handsome it stole my breath. He also looked like he was about to announce his candidacy for president. He smoothed out his suit, straightened his tie, then smiled.


    That one smile was all it took for a hush to fan out across the room. All eyes were focused on the wolf king.


    ¡°Good evening, everyone. I want to thank you all for coming tonight. As many of you know, Columbia was both mine and my father¡¯s alma mater. This school is special to the entire Rain family.¡± A smattering of applause. ¡°When Dean Portsmouth came to me with the idea of a new business school, some of my financial advisors warned against it. They said I was a fool to make a no-return investment.¡± He paused dramatically, smiling at the rapt crowd. ¡°So I fired them.¡±


    Hoots and cheers and much more enthusiastic clapping were the response. He had them hooked now. ¡°An investment in education will always reap returns. My father believed the greatest gift someone could give themselves was the gift of an open mind.¡± I saw pain flicker in Lucas¡¯s eyes, but his smile remained fixed. ¡°Anyone lucky enough to have known my father, and there are many of you here, know this school would have meant the world to him. It was a labor of love, designed by a family-owned firm, and built by one of our contracting companies. This school is Rain through and through. And I hope new generations of businessmen and women will come into the workplace from these halls. I just hope none of them are after my job.¡±


    More laughter.


    ¡°On a personal note, I wanted to express to you all how much it means to me to have you here with me tonight, and not only because we¡¯re opening this new school.¡± He sucked in a breath and took a half step away from the podium. I could feel a sudden spike of anxiety from him that made my own heart rate pick up.


    Resting my hand on Dominick¡¯s arm, I whispered, ¡°Something¡¯s wrong.¡±


    ¡°Shh,¡± he said, then rubbed my back in small circles.


    The whole room, myself included, held our collective breaths.


    ¡°Since losing my father, it¡¯s been a difficult transition for me. Moving from a carefree youth to suddenly being responsible for billions of dollars and thousands of jobs is enough to test the strongest man. I wouldn¡¯t have been able to do any of it without a strong network of support.¡± His hand hovered over his heart. ¡°In particular, there is someone here who has changed the entire course of my life. Before I met her I was a ship without sails. Since she came into my life, I know what it means to be complete.¡±


    There was a soft aww and several dreamy sighs from the audience. I still hadn¡¯t remembered to catch my breath. Lucas stood behind the podium, hand over his heart, and he was staring right at me. I thought I might throw up from the swell of anxious energy building in my chest.


    ¡°Secret McQueen,¡± he said, in case I¡¯d forgotten my name, which I had. ¡°Before you, I had a life without meaning. I was a man without drive. You¡¯ve given me something worth fighting for.¡±


    I swayed, but Dominick held me steady. The whole room had turned to look at me.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to risk letting you get away,¡± Lucas whispered, but the microphone amplified it through the atrium. He reached into the pocket of his suit and pulled out a robin¡¯s egg blue box tied with a blue ribbon. Tiffany blue. He set the box on the podium, and a few women nearby squealed.


    ¡°Oh God,¡± I choked, trying to catch my breath but unable to fill my lungs. The room was stifling. ¡°Oh my God.¡±


    ¡°Secret¡­¡± He smiled at me, and I braced myself against Dominick. ¡°Will you marry me?¡±


    Chapter Twenty-Seven


    There was only the clouded, static-filled silence of shock. My ears felt packed with cotton, like I was coming down after a long flight. I knew people were talking amongst themselves, and Dominick¡¯s mouth was moving, but I all I could hear was the pounding of my heart.


    I¡¯m dreaming. I¡¯m dreaming. It¡¯s the only explanation. Any minute now someone is going to burst into flame, or something totally surreal will happen to prove me right.


    But it didn¡¯t get much more surreal than having a billionaire propose to you in front of two hundred witnesses.


    I opened my mouth, but my tongue felt dry and swollen. Lucas was smiling hopefully, and the rest of the room was wide-eyed and eager. Like sharks circling in blood-filled water. Scanning their excited faces, I saw two who didn¡¯t match the general exuberance of the rest of the room.


    Morgan looked horrified. And at the bar¡ªthe Asian girl long forgotten¡ªHolden was staring at Lucas with his mouth slack and his eyes brimming with murderous intent. I¡¯d known it was a bad idea to bring him. I hadn¡¯t known how bad until that instant.


    A photographer stepped in front of me, and I was blinded by a flash.


    As the dots of light swam in my vision, my brain started to function again, shifting from full stop into high gear. Lucas had proposed. This wasn¡¯t a dream, and there were real people here waiting to hear my answer. Two of those people were dead set on proving Lucas¡¯s pack wasn¡¯t strong enough to withstand an invasion. And his relationship with me was essential in proving them wrong.


    If I said no, Lucas¡¯s authority as king would be decimated. He would be publicly humiliated.


    He cleared his throat and stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking downright sheepish. I didn¡¯t need a mate bond with him to know he was nervous.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I whispered.


    People in the crowd began to mutter, asking each other, ¡°What did she say?¡±


    I swallowed hard, clearing away the lump in my throat, and forced a smile for everyone, but especially for Amelia and Ben. ¡°Yes,¡± I repeated, louder this time. ¡°Yes, I will marry you.¡±


    The crowd erupted in a deafening cheer. Lucas jumped off the stage and cleared the room in a heartbeat. He swept me up in a lung-crushing hug and kissed me as the photographer started clicking again, flashes blotting out the rest of the room.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said into my ear.


    ¡°We need to talk about this,¡± I whispered into his.


    I pulled Lucas into a pristine, never-used student lounge and locked the door behind us. He opened his mouth, about to say something that would no doubt make me feel he had no choice but to put me on the spot. Or how he¡¯d believed the gesture was genuinely romantic. I could hear the excuses and explanations rattling around in his brain as clearly as if they were my own.


    Apparently anger did wonders to make the mate bond stronger. Marriages everywhere would thrive if they had this kind of connection.


    ¡°What the hell were you thinking?¡±


    Of the reactions I could have had, this wasn¡¯t the one Lucas had been expecting. He took two steps back and blinked at me as if I¡¯d slapped him. ¡°I thought¡ª¡±


    ¡°Did you think?¡± I threw myself down on one of the new leather couches and rested my head against the plush back.


    ¡°I needed to show them you and I were a team. That our relationship wasn¡¯t a passing fancy, or we were faking the soul-bond. They could see our mate bond. This was the easiest way to show them you belonged to me.¡± There they were, the rationales and excuses I¡¯d foreseen.


    ¡°I know why you think you did it, Lucas, but none of those are the real reason. You could have proposed months ago if you¡¯d wanted to.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have accepted months ago. You¡¯re only now realizing what¡¯s at stake here.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure this isn¡¯t about Desmond?¡±


    Lucas crouched in front of me, taking my hands in his and waiting until I looked at him before letting them go. ¡°I¡¯d be lying if I told you I wasn¡¯t jealous of the emotional connection you two share. But this isn¡¯t about a competition. This is about our survival.¡±


    ¡°Drama queen.¡± I smiled weakly.


    ¡°No. That would be you now, officially.¡±


    ¡°Queen. Jesus.¡± I dropped my head into my cupped palms. ¡°Lucas, I can¡¯t even shift. How am I going to be queen of the fucking werewolves?¡± I didn¡¯t mention my surreal partial shift. I still hadn¡¯t wrapped my head around what it meant, and I wanted to ask Grandmere about it before I told Lucas.

 Page 32

    He tugged me to the edge of the couch and lifted my hands over his head so they were draped around his neck. With his forehead against mine and the comfortable, familiar scent of him filling my nose, it was impossible to hold on to my anger. I couldn¡¯t remember what I was angry about.


    Fucking empathy.


    He kissed me, treading lightly in case I bit or punched him. I did neither. When I didn¡¯t resist, he slid his hands under my thighs, his fingers tickling my bare skin, and dragged me closer to him so he was wedged between my legs. His lips trailed down my neck, hot breath prickling my skin with a wave of goose bumps.


    When his tongue grazed my throat I inhaled sharply, but I didn¡¯t stop him. His hands continued their quest upwards, bunching my dress around my hips. His natural fragrance mingled with a spicy aftershave, making him smell exotic and reminding me of the flavor he¡¯d once had. When his tongue stroked mine, I responded with months of pent-up feeling.


    Since Lucas and I had met almost a year earlier, we had treaded a fine line between platonic and passionate. Our chemistry had never been in question, but until this moment I hadn¡¯t realized how much I wanted to obliterate the line. I didn¡¯t know if the new mate bond was responsible for my vigor, but whatever the reason, I found myself arching against him to lessen the distance between us.


    ¡°Lucas¡­¡± I breathed his name against his kiss-roughened lips, and he seized my mouth again with such intensity I forgot whatever words I¡¯d intended to say.


    He pushed me backwards onto the buttery leather of the couch, his body covering mine. His height and build were similar to Desmond¡¯s, but being with Lucas felt different. Where Desmond was willing to let me be a little pushy, Lucas was clearly set on being in control of this whole show. Although I liked being in charge, there was a thrill of the unknown to wonder what he would do next.


    My jacket was tugged off and thrown to the floor, followed shortly thereafter by my dress. The material puddled on the ground with a hushed sigh, as though it was speaking secrets as it fell. Chilly air brushed against my bare skin, hitting home how exposed I was. Knowing we were mere feet away from hundreds of socialites and millionaire businessmen did nothing to quell the rising need between us. If anything, Lucas seemed more excited than he ever had on our previous trysts.


    Probably because he could sense I wasn¡¯t readying myself to stop him.


    I wasn¡¯t going to stop.


    Keeping me pinned with an exaggerated thrust of his hips, he pulled away from a breath-rattling kiss and met my gaze. His eyes were bluer than I¡¯d ever seen, but tinged with a circle of citrine around the iris. His normal staid expression was gone, replaced with something wild and needy.


    ¡°Don¡¯t ask me to trust you,¡± I rasped, raking my fingernails against the fine layer of stubble on his jaw. His eyes closed, and he rubbed his face into my hand like a cat begging for attention.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t trust me by now, I¡¯m done asking.¡±


    ¡°Good. Too much talk.¡±


    I lifted my back from the couch to kiss him. As my tongue explored the sensitive planes of his mouth, he unclasped my bra and added the small swatch of lace to settle with the rest of my clothes. Lucas¡¯s suit jacket, tie and dress shirt gave the floor a full evening-wear selection. I ran my thumbs along the exaggerated ridges of his pelvis, then trailed my hands upwards over the firm expanse of his hard-earned six-pack.


    ¡°Take off your pants,¡± I growled.


    He lifted me by the waist as if I weighed nothing and pushed me back down. Blue eyes glinting mischievously, he licked my lower lip, and his fingers teased at the waistband of my underwear. Without breaking eye contact, he took my hand and placed it against his still-clothed erection. ¡°Do it for me,¡± he insisted.


    I nearly broke his zipper.


    When he was naked, I let out a sharp gasp of appreciation. There must be some special side effect of werewolf DNA that made the men well hung, and I wasn¡¯t about to question it since I definitely benefited from the results.


    Lucas wound his fingers around the waistband of my underwear and gave a demanding tug. I arched my hips and then, at last, we were both totally bare.


    ¡°I¡¯ve wanted you for so long,¡± he said into my ear.


    I wrapped my legs around his hips, angling my pelvis so he was pressed over my opening. I shuddered, my body trembling with the anticipation of what was to come. ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m never letting you go,¡± he promised.


    Lucas had made so many promises he had no way to keep, but this once I was willing to let him lie about, since I wanted to believe it. In his arms I could pretend he had asked to marry me because he loved me. With him trailing kisses down my throat, and his mouth latching onto my breast, I wanted nothing more than to believe this was the way things were supposed to be. That all the crazy, fucked-up bullshit had been for something good.


    He drove into me with a hard thrust, and I cried out, my nails digging into the warm skin of his shoulders. Over and over he pumped until our bodies found their rhythm, and I met each thrust with an arch of my back and we were both slick with sweat.


    When we were both on the brink, hovering on the precipice of orgasm, something in my head said, Open your eyes. I obeyed and found him staring at me, his blue irises nearly swallowed by the ring of yellow-green. He held my face between his palms as he dug deep with one last, shuddering thrust. I gasped, but no sound came out.


    It took us a moment to breathe again, and when I finally did, he brushed sweat-dampened hair off my cheek and smiled. ¡°Now you really are mine.¡±


    Chapter Twenty-Eight


    Fun fact: vampires can smell sex.


    I had always known it was the case, but seeing the look on Holden¡¯s face when I met him back at the bar was a harsh reminder. The disgust that flashed in his eyes was enough to make my stomach churn with guilt.


    ¡°Hope you had a good time, Mrs. Rain.¡± His gaze darted to the flawless six-carat diamond and platinum ring Lucas had insisted I put on after we¡¯d gotten dressed. The damned thing was so absurd I wanted to ask him to take it back and trade it for something more subtle, but I suspected male ego and diamond size were closely related.


    ¡°It¡¯s complicated.¡± The excuse sounded weak even to my ears. Was I really going to try using werewolf politics to justify running off to have sex in the middle of a party? I frowned and stayed silent when he glared at me.


    ¡°And someday you¡¯ll explain to me why it¡¯s okay for you to sleep with two werewolves, yet it¡¯s out of the question to cross the line with me. But I couldn¡¯t give a damn about that right now. You brought me here tonight to help find Lucy, and that¡¯s why I¡¯m here. So unless you feel like flaunting your lovers in my face a little more, let¡¯s get our job done.¡±


    A slap would have hurt less than his cold tone.


    The walk from the Rain School of Business to the English department offices wasn¡¯t long, but it might as well have taken ten years given how uncomfortable it was. Holden walked four feet ahead of me the whole way and didn¡¯t say another word after we left the party. Before we ventured out I made my final round of official handshaking and apologized to our visiting guests for leaving so soon. Lucas wasn¡¯t thrilled, but he didn¡¯t argue.


    It was impossible for me to ignore that the smell of my coupling with Lucas would be obvious to every werewolf in the room. Dominick and Morgan had both looked disappointed¡ªfor different reasons¡ªbut our Southern envoy seemed to take me seriously for the first time that evening.


    Guess I really was Lucas¡¯s mate now.


    I didn¡¯t know how to feel about the upgrade, and I was already having misgivings about our carnal display in the student lounge. It wasn¡¯t that I felt sleeping with him had been wrong, per se, but something about it didn¡¯t sit well.


    Holden¡¯s reaction didn¡¯t make me feel any better about it.


    The cranky vampire burst into the English building and let the solid wood door close in my face. Yup, he wasn¡¯t handling it like an adult.


    Since it was late in the evening on a Friday, there were no classes in session. The halls had an empty, echoey feel to them, making the whole building seem haunted. Without the bustle of students giving the walls life, all that remained was a musty, unsettling gloom. I matched Holden¡¯s pace, then overtook him. This was my hunt, and he didn¡¯t know where we were going.


    In the basement I led us through a labyrinth of halls until we were standing outside Oliver Mayhew¡¯s locked office door.


    Holden sniffed the air. ¡°Doesn¡¯t smell sinister.¡± The tone of his voice implied I might be wrong in my assessment that Mayhew was the villain. I¡¯d had plenty of opportunity to doubt myself in the past week, but this wasn¡¯t something I was uncertain of.


    I pulled out the bobby pin I¡¯d used to keep my bangs pinned back, and they thanked me by tumbling into my eyes. ¡°He¡¯s involved.¡±


    ¡°Whatever you say.¡±


    The bobby pin slipped into the lock, and I twisted it several times until a satisfying click shouted into the silence of the hall.


    ¡°Where¡¯d you learn to do that?¡± Curiosity overtook his default surliness.


    ¡°Keaty 101. He locked me in a closet with no light and nothing but a box of toothpicks. Told me if I made it out, he¡¯d train me.¡±


    ¡°And if you didn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Keaty has plenty of skeletons in his closet already. I don¡¯t think another one would make much difference to him.¡± I was matter-of-fact about it, but the truth was the memory of being trapped in that closet gave me the creeps. I didn¡¯t do well with cramped spaces, and in seven years I don¡¯t think I¡¯d totally forgiven Keaty for doing that to me.


    ¡°He and Sig would get along swimmingly.¡± Holden opened the door, and the dark interior grinned like an open mouth.


    When I stood, I brushed against his chest. We both froze. He broke away first, choosing to slip into the foreign room instead of staying in contact with me.


    ¡°What are you looking for, exactly?¡±


    I let out a breath before following him into the office. ¡°Anything that proves Mayhew met with the girls alone. With the exception of Lucy, all the girls were carrying on relationships with Gabriel, and from what I gather they had a bit of a time-share system.¡± Mayhew¡¯s desk chair squeaked when I sat down.

 Page 33

    ¡°Your Gabriel?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s no one¡¯s Gabriel now.¡± I hit the power button on the desktop computer and waited as the fan kicked in and the familiar Windows chimes bonged. By some stroke of idiot¡¯s luck, the computer wasn¡¯t password protected. That also probably meant I wasn¡¯t going to find anything juicy or useful.


    Holden picked up the professor¡¯s DayTimer and started paging through it. ¡°What were their names?¡±


    ¡°Trish, Angie and Misty.¡±


    As a full-blooded vampire, he didn¡¯t need any light to read the contents of the book. I would have been able to make out some detail, but not with the same clarity. While he checked back through Mayhew¡¯s old appointments, I started snooping in Outlook. It was about as titillating as I¡¯d anticipated. There were several messages from Gabriel, but none were incriminating. The only message from any of the missing girls was one from Trish Keller asking for an extension on a term paper.


    One message was flagged, and I clicked it open. The sender was listed as E. Marx.


    Dear Professor Mayhew,


    I¡¯m writing as a follow-up to our discussion after last Thursday¡¯s class. I gave a lot of consideration to your thoughts, but I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be able to pick up the work at this point. I have to focus on sciences. I will stop by your office tomorrow to have you sign the withdrawal forms. Again, I¡¯m very sorry. I hope I¡¯ll get another opportunity to take your class before I graduate.


    Sincerely,


    Ellory Marx


    The name didn¡¯t mean anything to me, but the flag Mayhew had placed on it made me uneasy. I printed the email and took a final look at his inbox. When it didn¡¯t tell me what he was up to, I turned off the computer and stood. Holden was still paging through the DayTimer, and it didn¡¯t take superhuman night vision to know he looked concerned about something.


    ¡°What did you find?¡± I moved closer, careful not to touch him, and peered over his shoulder.


    ¡°He had several meetings with each of the girls, but in the last two weeks he¡¯s met with Lucy three times out of his regular office hours. The names never overlap. He¡¯ll meet with one girl three or four times, then moves on to the next. You¡¯re sure Gabriel wasn¡¯t involved with Lucy?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°I enthralled him.¡±


    Holden closed the book with a smack and tossed it back on Mayhew¡¯s desk. ¡°I beg your pardon?¡±


    ¡°You heard me.¡±


    ¡°When did that change?¡±


    ¡°About the same time I stopped taking my orders from you.¡±


    He gave me a tight-lipped smile that had nothing to do with happiness. ¡°Well look who¡¯s got all the power now.¡±


    I flashed my teeth at him. Werewolf or vampire, fangs or not, the gesture meant the same thing¡ªStand down. He didn¡¯t say anything else, but I would never know if he¡¯d planned to. Beneath our feet came a triumphant crash and a muffled scream.


    But we were already in the basement.


    ¡°I¡¯m not imagining that, right?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°It did come from under us, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Can you¡­?¡± It seemed wrong to ask him for help when we were in the middle of a fight, but his sense of smell had always been better than mine. Holden gave new meaning to the concept of a bloodhound. Even among vampires his sense of blood, new or old, was astonishing.


    ¡°If there¡¯s blood, I can find it.¡±


    He was out in the hall before I could thank him. I locked Mayhew¡¯s door and had to run to keep pace with Holden as he dashed around the corner and out of sight. I caught up with him at the end of a hallway with no exit. There was a door in front of him marked Janitorial Supply. Didn¡¯t exactly scream secret basement of doom.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±


    ¡°You want to second-guess me, or do you want to use your lock-picking skills for some good?¡±


    I sidled up next to him and assessed the door, then took a step back and delivered a hard side kick to the wooden barrier, knocking it inwards off its hinges. The sound of crunching wood was all I could hear for a moment.


    ¡°You were saying?¡± I asked.


    Holden tapped the broken door with one finger. It shifted and collapsed onto the ground with a thud. ¡°Faster than picking the lock,¡± he admitted.


    ¡°I lost the bobby pin.¡±


    I stepped over the door onto a concrete platform with no safety railing and followed the narrow steps down into darkness. Holden remained at the top until I¡¯d made it safely down. Only then did he follow.


    ¡°All right, Hound of the Baskervilles. Point the way.¡±


    His indignant look spoke volumes. ¡°That doesn¡¯t even make sense. If anything, the hound in Doyle¡¯s story was a ghost. At best a were¡ª¡± His lecture on the fundamentals of English literature was cut short by another piercing scream.


    I didn¡¯t need to follow his nose to pinpoint the direction the cry had come from. Holden and I bolted down the hall with superhuman speed. His quick reflexes put him well ahead of me, while I narrowly avoided running face first into several walls. Holden stopped so abruptly I collided with him, and only a strong arm around my waist kept me from falling flat on my ass.


    Real smooth.


    Holden helped right my balance. The scent of fresh blood was unmistakable from the open door where we stopped, but it took no time at all to recognize there was nothing alive in the room, or anything that had once been living. A small cot was pushed up against one wall and there was a basin on the floor I wasn¡¯t keen to look in once I got a whiff of it. On the back of the door were deeply embedded claw marks and a thin coating of fresh blood.


    Was it possible someone could have been kept captive in the basement of one of the most prominent universities in the country? Surely someone must have noticed this room before now. Right? The bowl on the floor and the rumpled sheets told me the unpleasant truth.


    Grabbing my elbow, Holden guided me out of the room. We still needed to find the person who¡¯d been screaming, and while they might have once been in this room, they obviously weren¡¯t anymore. He took off at a run again, and I followed like a faithful puppy until he stopped. We both stood staring at yet another door as if it might be the actual source of the screams. We¡¯d run so far I didn¡¯t think we were under the English building anymore. The air down here was colder and smelled of chemicals that had nothing to do with cleaning.


    Sulfur. The whole hall stank of sulfur.


    I got a chill remembering my night at the museum, because I doubted anyone had left an egg-salad sandwich down here, meaning something else was responsible for the stench.


    The door was basic particleboard and would have easily yielded to a kick, but it proved unnecessary when Holden twisted the knob and found it unlocked.


    Inside, the rotten-egg reek was so overpowering my eyes watered. We were in a large storage room with aged brown and clear bottles cluttering the shelves and a fine coating of sawdust on the floor.


    ¡°There.¡± He pointed to a cupboard in the corner. I was about to question his judgment when I noticed the smear of blood on the door. How he¡¯d been able to smell it over the stink of chemicals was beyond me.


    I crouched in front of the cupboard and yanked the small door open. Wedged within was Lucy Renard, who had managed to fold herself into a tiny ball and was sobbing quietly, her tremors broken by an occasional hiccough.


    ¡°Lucy?¡± Reaching in, I touched her shoulder. She was dressed in pajama pants and a tank top. Her feet were bare.


    When my skin grazed hers, she jerked and lifted her head. Once she got a good look at my face, she recoiled. Recognition turned to terror, and she began to scream.


    The force of Lucy¡¯s wailing knocked me backwards into Holden¡¯s legs. I¡¯d never met her before, yet she looked at me as if she already knew me. And had a reason to be afraid of me. Holden edged around me and hauled the girl out of the cupboard with one hand. She writhed and fought against him with more strength than I¡¯d expected her to have, but Holden didn¡¯t look too put off by her efforts.


    Lucy continued to shriek and lashed out several kicks that nearly connected with my chest.


    ¡°Stop,¡± I hollered. ¡°We¡¯re here to help you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t kill me,¡± she cried, oblivious to what I¡¯d said. ¡°Please don¡¯t kill me.¡±


    ¡°Lucy.¡± Holden caught her chin and cupped it in his large palm, turning her face so she was forced to look at him. ¡°We were sent by your aunt. We¡¯re here to protect you.¡± Usually the thrall was used to make victims believe a lie, or admit to something they otherwise wouldn¡¯t. In this case Holden was using the vampire gift to make the girl believe what her fear wouldn¡¯t let her accept. The truth.


    She passed out, sagging in his arms like a rag doll, and he held her as if she weighed as much as one.


    ¡°What now?¡± he asked me.


    I stared at Lucy¡¯s inert body. Her feet were cut, and the open wounds were crammed full of filthy sawdust. She was going to scar badly and likely face serious infection if we didn¡¯t get her to a hospital. The bottles on the shelves might contain something that would have once been helpful, like peroxide or iodine, but I didn¡¯t trust any of the long-expired chemicals on her.


    ¡°We need to get her to a doctor. See what else is wrong that we can¡¯t see.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s got a bad bite on her shoulder.¡± He lifted his fingers, exposing a patch of skin that looked to have been gnawed on by a wild animal. Not a vampire, they were too neat, and a were wouldn¡¯t stop at one bite. Holden¡¯s fingers were coated with blood, and his nostrils flared when he showed me the wound.


    ¡°When was the last time you fed?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°Holden.¡±


    ¡°Secret, I¡¯m fine.¡± His eyes were still brown, none of the jet-black of vampire frenzy leaking into his irises. For the time being he was still more man than monster.


    ¡°Don¡¯t push it,¡± I warned. ¡°If it gets bad, tell me. Rebecca will make me issue your warrant personally if you kill this girl.¡±

 Page 34

    He snorted. ¡°Then you¡¯ll have killed all her children.¡±


    A familiar female voice said, ¡°But isn¡¯t that what children are for? Lambs for the slaughter.¡±


    Holden stared at me. ¡°What did you say?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say anything.¡±


    The voice had unmistakably been mine, though. In the disconnected way I could recognize my voice on an answering machine or video, I knew what I sounded like, and the voice was mine even if the words weren¡¯t.


    The door we¡¯d come in through shut with a click, and suddenly we weren¡¯t alone in the room. My back was to the entrance, so Holden saw the new arrival first. His eyes grew wide, and he hugged Lucy close to his chest, stepping away from me. I looked over my shoulder to see what had him so spooked, and my blood ran cold.


    I used to joke that Brigit and I could have been twins, but I¡¯d never again be able to make the same statement without a terror flashback to this moment.


    Less than four feet from where I stood was a young woman who looked exactly like me, from the leather pants and jacket to Desmond¡¯s Yankees shirt. Her hair was the same curly blonde, her eyes the same shade of brown, only hers were edged with a fine red ring. The woman didn¡¯t just look like me.


    She was me.


    Chapter Twenty-Nine


    ¡°Hello,¡± my doppelganger said with a smile.


    ¡°What the fuck?¡± I replied.


    Lucy chose that inopportune moment to regain consciousness. She took one look at the two of me, and her renewed screaming reached an ear-splitting volume. Holden held her close, tucking her head into his shoulder, and whispered something I couldn¡¯t hear. After a moment the screaming stopped, and she went limp again. The whole time Holden didn¡¯t take his eyes off me.


    Both of me.


    ¡°That¡¯s mine.¡± Alterna-me pointed to Lucy.


    ¡°Like hell.¡± Holden stepped back until he hit the cupboard. His eyes were getting darker, and I saw a flash of fang when he curled his lip at Bad Secret. It was hard to see someone I cared for look at me like that, even if I knew it wasn¡¯t really me.


    ¡°What. The. Fuck,¡± I said again.


    If ever there was a question of which was the real Secret, it would only be a matter of time before my blue-streak sailor¡¯s mouth would give me away as the real deal.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, Secret? Don¡¯t you like it?¡± Bad Secret gave a small curtsy and arched her brow at me. ¡°I thought the leather-on-leather look was a little Terminatrix for my taste, but that was your call, not mine.¡± She certainly had my sass mouth down pat. That was disconcerting. When I didn¡¯t rise to her bait she snarled at me, the ring of red growing until there was no white left in her eyes at all.


    ¡°Creepy,¡± I whispered. It was as if I was staring into a mirror after a really bad night out. Like one where the devil himself kicked me in the face and tried to slip me a roofie. That¡¯s how bad a night would have to be for me to look like Bad Secret.


    ¡°Give me the girl,¡± she snarled.


    ¡°No,¡± Holden and I said simultaneously.


    ¡°Give her to me or I will destroy everything you love.¡± This was no idle threat. Something in the way Bad Secret spoke gave me such a chill I wanted to crawl into the open cupboard we¡¯d retrieved Lucy from. ¡°Yes,¡± she said, seeming to sense my apprehension. ¡°Look at me. I can walk into your house. I can walk right up to that handsome boyfriend of yours¡­ Desmond, was it? He will look at me and smile, and I will rip his heart out through his mouth.¡± She smiled. ¡°I will turn your little white cat inside out.¡± When I shuddered visibly, she looked at Holden. ¡°And don¡¯t think I¡¯ll forget about him.¡±


    Holden snarled.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, vampire, I might make it fun for you first. You could play with the body like she won¡¯t let you.¡± Bad Secret ran her hands provocatively over the front of her body, fingernails dragging over her nipples as she licked her lips at Holden. It might have been titillating if not for the glowing red eyes and the fact she was Scary. As. Fuck.


    How did she know everything about me?


    Bad Secret turned her attention back to me. ¡°Or maybe I¡¯ll just kill you and take over your life. Play your role for a while. Wouldn¡¯t that be fun? The vampire Tribunal? The wolf king¡¯s pack.¡± I trembled. She knew it all. All my secrets. My whole life. ¡°Like a fun supernatural soap opera. Just think of what I could do.¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I demanded.


    ¡°Oh, love, I thought you¡¯d figured that out by now.¡±


    Love. My eyes bulged. ¡°Mayhew.¡±


    Bad Secret dipped her head and winked. ¡°In your flesh. But if this look bothers you¡­¡± Mayhew¡¯s skin bubbled like a bad sunburn, turning purple-red and peeling back to reveal a whole new face. My curls sloughed off and vanished when they hit the floor. My clothes burned away and were replaced by a gray Columbia sweatshirt and dumpy jeans. A mousy brunette with hunched posture and mild acne batted sheepish lashes at me.


    The girl from the museum.


    ¡°It was you that night,¡± I blurted.


    ¡°Of course.¡± My voice was replaced with a meek, squeaky tone.


    ¡°Who is this?¡± I pointed an accusatory finger at the chubby girl who stood before me. ¡°Whose life did you steal for this?¡±


    ¡°Ellory Marx from Lincoln, Nebraska.¡± The new form Mayhew had taken over blushed almost apologetically. ¡°Wonder if anyone misses her.¡± Ellory¡¯s skin bubbled like before, and this time the shift occurred faster. I didn¡¯t need help to recognize the new incarnation. Trish Keller snapped gum at me and thrust a defiant hip out, her short skirt riding up a little too high. If I waited long enough, I was willing to bet Mayhew might show me the faces of every missing and dead girl from the Columbia campus.


    Going back God knows how long.


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked, not sure what I meant specifically.


    Mayhew-as-Trish shrugged and popped her gum again, rolling her eyes. ¡°The young, pretty ones are best.¡± She spit her gum into the corner of the room and gave Holden a cheeky smile. The vampire bared his fangs at her. ¡°They taste fresher, don¡¯t they?¡±


    Trish¡¯s legs took on the texture of lizard skin, turned black and leathery, and Mayhew became me again. The effect was no less disturbing the second time around. He stepped closer, and I moved until my back was against Holden.


    ¡°You tasted different though, didn¡¯t you?¡± Mayhew asked, though it wasn¡¯t really a question. ¡°You¡¯re a special one, Secret McQueen. I liked the flavor of your mouth.¡± Mayhew licked his lips¡ªmy lips¡ªand I suppressed another shudder. It wasn¡¯t doing me any good to let him know how badly he was scaring me.


    ¡°What are you?¡± I managed to make my mouth form words instead of a scream. Point for me.


    ¡°Who or what I am doesn¡¯t concern you, halfling. Give me the girl. I¡¯ve barely tasted her yet, and I want more.¡± Mayhew reached out a hand for Lucy, but Holden didn¡¯t budge an inch behind me.


    ¡°You took my memories,¡± I said stupidly.


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Did you force Gabriel to seduce the girls? Why doesn¡¯t he know anything about their deaths?¡±


    ¡°You ask too many questions.¡± Mayhew rolled his eyes, and it was eerie to see one of my own expressions mirrored back to me. ¡°I¡¯m not here for an interview; I¡¯m here for what¡¯s mine.¡± He paused. ¡°Why do you care what I did to Gabriel? I know what he did to you. You should want him to suffer. That is the way human women think.¡±


    Holden snorted.


    ¡°You¡¯ve seen inside my head. You should know well enough by now I¡¯m not exactly human,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Yet loyalty for betrayers isn¡¯t a trait of weres or vampires, either.¡± Mayhew stared at me like he was seeing me for the first time. ¡°You truly are an odd one.¡±


    Normally I might have a glib reply for him, but it was hard to make basic conversation¡ªlet alone be a smartass¡ªwhen you¡¯re talking to yourself.


    ¡°You did something to him. That¡¯s why he couldn¡¯t tell me about you earlier. You destroyed him. Gabriel was a decent person once.¡±


    ¡°He still is,¡± Mayhew assured me. ¡°Just easily led astray.¡±


    Something about the way Mayhew said it, and the way he¡¯d called children lambs for the slaughter, made an alarm bell go off in my head. A tingly sensation stung the synapses all over my body as my skin rose in a forest of goose bumps. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°You know my name.¡±


    ¡°I know the human name you have adopted to suit the form you wear. What¡¯s your real name?¡±


    Mayhew smiled, and I didn¡¯t want to look, but I couldn¡¯t turn away. My pearly whites were replaced with rows of sharp, pointed, sharklike teeth that appeared more than capable of creating the wound on Lucy¡¯s neck and much worse. Mayhew tongued the tip of his demonic incisors and leered at us.


    Demonic. Yes, the thought nagging at the back of my head had formed itself into a full-on understanding. Mayhew was a demon. And not just any earth-born half-demon either. They were mischief-makers and wannabe hell-raisers at best. This guy was the real deal. An honest-to-God full-blooded demon was standing in front of me demanding I give him something.


    And I had said no.


    ¡°Why do you want to know my name?¡± he asked almost pleasantly.


    ¡°So I can send you back to Hell.¡±


    Chapter Thirty


    I should have known better than to use a snappy one-liner on a demon.


    Mayhew sneered and hit me. Or at least I think he hit me. One minute I was looking at myself, the next I was flat on my back staring at the array of mold spores decorating the ceiling. Spots of light swam around me like fireflies.


    Pretty.


    Oh, right. Seeing dancing lights wasn¡¯t a good thing.


    Groaning, I managed to move into a sitting position. The little lights now seemed like angry wasps, and my body was insisting I lay back down. But in the few seconds since I¡¯d been laid out, Holden and Mayhew had gotten into a knockdown drag-out fight over the fate of Lucy Renard. Miraculously, Lucy was still out cold. Even more of a miracle was the fact Holden was holding his own against Mayhew while clinging to the girl.

 Page 35

    My vampire was a hell of a guy.


    Too bad it was obvious Mayhew wasn¡¯t putting his all into the fight. I don¡¯t know if he was worried about damaging his supposed property, or if he thought fighting a vampire was beneath his demonic strength, but he was holding back.


    ¡°Give me the girl,¡± Mayhew demanded.


    ¡°No.¡± Holden swung and missed. Mayhew danced from one foot to the other, bobbing away from the vampire¡¯s faster-than-light punches.


    I tried to move, but the elephant parked on my chest had different ideas. Since I obviously couldn¡¯t sass talk the demon into submission, I was going to have to do something else to distract him and give Holden a chance to escape with Lucy.


    Something that didn¡¯t involve any advanced form of locomotion.


    On the bottom shelf within arm¡¯s reach was a row of dark brown bottles with a thick layer of dust on them and labels so faded I didn¡¯t think an archaeologist would be able to decipher them. Given that everything in the room seemed to be expired chemistry department supplies, I figured there was a good chance it might be dangerous.


    Or, at the very least, irritating.


    I picked up the bottle and chucked it at Mayhew. Instead of shattering dramatically, the bottle bounced off his head with a thwock sound and fell to the floor undamaged.


    Well, shit.


    As it turns out, bashing a demon in the head with a glass bottle accomplishes two things. First, it gets their attention long enough for a vampire to land one hell of a right hook. Second, it really pisses them off.


    ¡°Vile creatures,¡± Mayhew hollered. Holden¡¯s punch had caused the demon to stagger backwards into the door, cracking the weak wood frame. We were breaking an awful lot of doors at Columbia tonight. Mayhew touched his mouth, and his fingers came away bloody. ¡°This won¡¯t be forgotten.¡± He looked to me, and his red eyes glowed like lava, hot and angry. ¡°I hope you said fond farewells to your loved ones, halfling. Tonight they all die.¡±


    My lips parted, but I never got a chance to find out what marvelous wordsmithery was about to tumble out. Mayhew grabbed the door handle, twisting the knob into a gob of brass chewing gum, and the door buckled in half before he was able to get it open.


    Then he was gone, still wearing my face.


    Desmond¡¯s phone went straight to voicemail, as did Lucas¡¯s. I tried to sum up the problem quickly, knowing I had a dozen other calls to make before everyone I cared about was safe from¡­well, safe from me.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I told Desmond¡¯s message. ¡°I have an evil demon twin. He¡­she¡­it will kill you without question, and may try to sleep with you first. I¡¯m sort of fuzzy on the plan. Unless I say¡­¡± I looked around for a code word to distinguish myself as the real Secret and the first thing I saw was Holden, ¡°¡­Dracula, it¡¯s not me. And you better run.¡±


    I snapped my phone shut and ignored Holden¡¯s disgusted expression. ¡°You¡¯re making excellent strides at butchering all the classics of British literature tonight.¡±


    ¡°The vamps ruined Stoker long before I got to him.¡± Vampires had a nasty habit of calling those who had been too corrupted by the thrall Renfields. Ick.


    Holden had draped his coat over Lucy, and we had managed to get her back to her dorm room without much fuss. It was too cold and too late for most students to be outside. Lucy¡¯s roommate was an apparent exception. I was starting to wonder if Katie was ever in their room, or if it was just a storage locker for her crap.


    I left Lucas the same message I¡¯d left Desmond, then turned my attention to the unconscious girl. We couldn¡¯t leave her here unattended, not with Mayhew on the loose and obviously aware of where he could find her. I wanted to leave and make sure my friends were safe, but I had to protect the most vulnerable target first. Almost everyone I cared about was a supernatural creature of some kind, and though I didn¡¯t think they could best a demon in a fight, they would be able to hold their own longer than a human.


    Lucy may have been a were-ocelot, but right now she was just an injured girl who needed help. My help.


    Genevieve¡¯s cell was the next call I made.


    ¡°Hello?¡± If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d have sworn I called a phone-sex operator by accident. Genevieve¡¯s voice was a sultry, inviting purr.


    ¡°Genevieve, it¡¯s Secret.¡±


    ¡°Lord.¡± Her breath whooshed out, and it took her a moment to regain her composure. ¡°What¡¯s happened? What did you find?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve got her.¡±


    She let out an excited cry, and when she spoke again her voice was thick with emotion. ¡°Is she¡­is she okay?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s alive. She¡¯s pretty badly hurt. Her feet are cut up, and it looks like a demon took a bite out of her.¡±


    ¡°Did you say a demon?¡±


    ¡°Long story.¡±


    ¡°Where are you?¡± The rustle of movement interrupted our conversation, and a door slammed on her end. She was on the move.


    ¡°We¡¯re in Lucy¡¯s dorm room. Holden carried her back here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be there in fifteen minutes.¡±


    I nodded and went to hang up the phone, then stopped. ¡°Shit. Genevieve?¡±


    ¡°Mmm?¡±


    ¡°If you see me anywhere but in this room¡­run like hell. Understand?¡±


    ¡°Is that a threat?¡± She sounded more mystified than angry.


    ¡°No. It¡¯s part of the long story.¡±


    Genevieve didn¡¯t care about my story as long as her niece was safe. She agreed not to trust me unless I was with Holden and hung up. Holden had wrapped Lucy in her twin duvet and added the one from her roommate¡¯s bed as well. He crouched next to her and brushed an errant copper hair off her balmy forehead.


    ¡°What the hell happened down there, Secret?¡± he asked, but never took his attention off the girl.


    ¡°I think I pissed off a demon.¡±


    ¡°I believe you could piss off God himself. But that¡¯s not what I mean.¡±


    ¡°I know. I wish I could explain it.¡± I gave him the brief rundown of my week, skipping over any werewolf-related drama and emphasizing the issues with Gabriel and Mayhew. I gave him more details about my previous evening under Mayhew¡¯s spell.


    ¡°So he stole your memories, made you forget, then stole your appearance. Basically he wasn¡¯t full of shit when he said he could take over your life.¡± If he was mad about Mayhew violating me, it didn¡¯t show. ¡°You need to call Sig. Now.¡±


    Shit, he was right. Sig and the council hadn¡¯t even been on my top-ten list of people I needed to warn about Mayhew, but Holden¡¯s mind cut right through the warm-and-fuzzy stuff and went straight to business. If Mayhew got into the Tribunal¡¯s lair and killed Sig and Juan Carlos, he could effectively destroy the entire vampire political structure.


    And the council would never believe I was innocent.


    I picked up my phone again to dial Sig¡¯s number, but it began to ring before I got the chance. The boppy eighties pop song felt out of place in the somber atmosphere of the room. Next time I picked a ringtone, it was going to have to fit my lifestyle a bit better. Nine Inch Nails, maybe. Or some Alkaline Trio.


    Mercedes¡¯s number was flashing on the caller ID screen.


    ¡°Cedes, hey, can I call¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, hold on. I have been trying to get in touch with you all goddamn night and your phone goes straight to voicemail. Hold your horses if you think you¡¯re going to hang up on me right now.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sort of in the middle of a crisis.¡±


    ¡°No shit, Sherlock.¡±


    ¡°Seriously, I¡ª¡±


    She cut me off again. ¡°What the hell happened last night? I¡¯ve never seen you like that. You were like an amnesiac right out of a bad soap opera. And I would know, I watch General Hospital a lot.¡±


    ¡°Uhhh¡­¡±


    ¡°Sure. Now you¡¯re at a loss. Do you have any clue what kind of questions I¡¯m fielding from Tyler tonight? He¡¯s not an idiot, Secret. He knows something out of the ordinary happened last night, and I don¡¯t know how to explain it to him without¡­you know. Telling him.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Duh.¡± I could practically hear her rolling her eyes. ¡°But I¡¯m going to need something to tell him that he¡¯ll buy.¡±


    ¡°Tell him I had a head wound.¡±


    ¡°That gave you selective amnesia.¡±


    ¡°He should buy selective amnesia better than most people.¡±


    Cedes paused. I should have known better than to say that, because she wouldn¡¯t gloss over it. ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°Nothing, forget it.¡±


    ¡°Missy, once you¡¯re out of whatever crisis you¡¯re in, you and I are going to have margaritas and a very, very long chat.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s something else.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Next time you see me, it¡¯s important you ask me¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh. You sneaky devil, why didn¡¯t you tell me you were coming? I see you. Tell me now.¡±


    My pulse dipped, and my blood went cold. ¡°Cedes, no, that¡¯s not¡­¡± But it was too late. The line was dead. And if I didn¡¯t haul ass, more than the line would be dead soon.


    ¡°Oh God,¡± I breathed out, my eyes going hazy with pink as tears flooded to the surface. ¡°Oh my God.¡±


    ¡°Go.¡± I¡¯d forgotten Holden was there, and his voice gave me a start.


    ¡°But, what about¡­¡± I nodded to Lucy.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m capable of taking care of her until Genevieve gets here. It¡¯s my fault you¡¯re messed up in this to begin with, so I¡¯ll take my part of the responsibility now. Go.¡±


    I wanted to believe he¡¯d be okay without me. Logic told me he was the best person to guard Lucy, and I couldn¡¯t help him by staying, but I needed to know I¡¯d done all I could. I took my gun from its holster and laid it on the end of the bed.


    ¡°What¡¯s that for?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Just in case.¡±


    ¡°Secret¡­¡±

 Page 36

    ¡°No.¡± I shook my head. ¡°Don¡¯t argue. Please.¡±


    He forced a small smile but didn¡¯t fight about the weapon any further.


    I was halfway out the door when I skidded to a halt and turned back to him. ¡°I need you to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Call the council. Send backup. Stay alive. You need a lot.¡±


    I nodded gratefully. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    As I darted back out the door I heard him mutter in an irritated but mildly amused voice, ¡°Dracula.¡±


    Chapter Thirty-One


    On a good day Barbie looked confused. On a bad day she looked ready to spit venom when she saw me. Based on those criteria I would have said today was a good day, because she certainly looked mystified when I walked through the police station¡¯s front doors. She stared at me, then back over her shoulder to the stairs, then back to me with both eyebrows knit together in consternation.


    ¡°Did you go out the back way, change, then come back?¡±


    I¡¯ll give the idiot girl this: it was the most logical explanation. ¡°Yes,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°How else is a single girl supposed to land a handsome detective?¡± My voice caught in my throat. Before tonight I¡¯d never believed there would be a situation where being a smartass would be difficult for me. Tonight I was learning it was almost impossible to be tart and clever when people you love might die because of you.


    ¡°Trust me, honey,¡± Barbie said with the winsome, sagelike voice of a girl who¡¯d been there. ¡°All you need is tits and access to Krispy Kreme. They won¡¯t appreciate Betsey Johnson and Stella McCartney.¡± She waved her hand in the direction of my outfit.


    Normally I¡¯d have given her credit for her correct analysis of my ensemble. After all, what New York girl doesn¡¯t like to talk about her clothes? But tonight I just nodded and bolted for the stairs.


    The main room upstairs was so quiet my heels echoed as I crossed the tile floor at a half-run. A few detectives were seated at their desks, behaving as if it were a normal night and there wasn¡¯t a homicidal demon in their midst.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Castilla?¡± I asked a balding detective with a paunchy belly.


    He didn¡¯t look up, only jerked his thumb towards the employee-access stairs to the basement. ¡°She and Novak just headed to the cages.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I muttered and bolted for the door, praying I wasn¡¯t too late.


    The first indication everything was far from all right was the reek of copper and iron when I opened the stairwell doors. Only one thing could account for the potency of the smell. Fresh blood and lots of it. With my last remaining rational thought, I locked the door so accessing the corridor wouldn¡¯t be possible from above. I didn¡¯t need anyone stumbling onto what was sure to be a mess and losing their life for their bad timing.


    Halfway down the stairs on a small concrete landing was the first body, lying facedown in a pool of partially congealed blood. My heart pounded as I came level to the corpse. Part of me said it was better not to know and I should keep going. But whoever it was, they were dead because of me. I had to accept responsibility for it and look them in the face.


    I rolled the body over with my shoe. A pale, panic-stricken expression stared back. The officer had been in his thirties. He had a wedding band on his finger. I fought against the new wave of tears threatening me. The man¡¯s jaw hung slack, broken. He appeared to have been mid-scream when he died.


    The front of his chest was ripped open in a jagged, garnet-colored hole. The white spires of his ribs jutted out, and everything inside was a mess of shredded parts that didn¡¯t look like they were in the right place anymore. I prayed most of the damage had been done after he died, but judging by all the blood leaking out, I didn¡¯t think he¡¯d been so lucky.


    I stepped over his body and made my way to the bottom of the stairs. The back door leading into the sign-in room hung ajar, and the smell of blood was as strong as it had been at the top of the stairs. My brain screamed at me to turn around and go back, but the warning was fruitless. I was going in, and my brain damn well knew it.


    Inside, the desk was askew, shoved up against the far wall. The monitor for the cameras inside the cells had been knocked onto the floor, but the power was still on, so sparks were issuing forth from the shattered black screen. Glass littered the floor, shining out from the expanding pool of blood like flat, glinting islands. There was so much blood. I didn¡¯t know if one person could produce that much. Slumped on top of the desk was the same uniformed officer I¡¯d seen on both my previous visits here. His face lay cheek down on the desk with his vacant eyes wide and his mouth agape in a scream, much like the officer on the stairwell.


    The desk officer¡¯s arms were behind him, cracked and bent at odd angles, his spine bowed inwards, giving his back an inverted hump. It looked like someone had come from behind him, pulled his arms back until they popped, while breaking his spine with their foot. The outcome was grisly enough. I was glad I hadn¡¯t been here to see it happen.


    I checked the lock on the front door leading to the main holding area, but someone had already turned it. My boots were smeared with blood by the time I waded across the growing puddle to buzz myself into the small holding-cell area beyond.


    Mercedes and Tyler both rounded on me, guns raised. I was so shocked to see them alive, I didn¡¯t care about the weapons trained on my head and heart.


    ¡°What the¡­?¡± Tyler looked from me to Gabriel¡¯s cell, then back. His gun followed his eyes like he wasn¡¯t certain which way he should be aiming it. I couldn¡¯t get a view into Gabriel¡¯s cell, but I had a pretty good idea of what Mercedes and Tyler were seeing.


    ¡°I can explain.¡± I could? ¡°I know this looks bad.¡±


    Gabriel squealed. It was the kind of frantic, distressed noise an animal in a trap makes. It was not the kind of noise a grown man makes unless he is pushed beyond the limits of pain his body can withstand. I edged forward, and Tyler pivoted his weapon back to me, a wild gleam in his eyes.


    ¡°The person you saw, that isn¡¯t me.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t listen to her,¡± my voice inside the cell insisted. ¡°She¡¯s an imposter.¡±


    I lost it. ¡°Shut up. You¡¯re in there mutilating an innocent man. You¡¯ve killed God knows how many others on your way here. I don¡¯t think they¡¯re going to buy you as the good one here, Mayhew.¡±


    A crack-pop issued forth from the cell, and Gabriel bleated out another noise of distress.


    ¡°Well, if I¡¯m not playing nice, then I guess I¡¯ll just finish what I came here to do.¡±


    Mercedes looked from me to the other me, then turned her gun towards Mayhew. Thank God. I hadn¡¯t had time to feed her the safe word, yet she still seemed to believe I was real and he was the imposter. It helped that Mayhew was in the process of dismembering my ex.


    Though, come to think of it, I think I¡¯d threatened to do the same thing once or twice myself.


    ¡°You can¡¯t kill it with bullets,¡± I told the detectives.


    ¡°You can kill anything with bullets,¡± Tyler countered, still eyeing me suspiciously, having not decided who should be his target.


    ¡°Not a demon.¡± I guess now was as good a time as any to let Tyler in on the situation.


    He snorted. I wasn¡¯t going to be able to ease him into the truth the way I would have liked to. This was a crash course at best, and if he chose to believe it, awesome. If not, well, there was a team of council wardens on their way here to enthrall anyone who encountered Bad Secret tonight. I hoped Holden had the presence of mind to request a clean-up crew. Memories of the men outside the door made hot bile press against the back of my throat.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have time to make you understand. I wish I did. The thing in that cell is a demon. It has stolen my form and my memories. There is no way to tell us apart except that I¡¯m standing out here, trying to save you, and she¡¯s in there killing someone.¡± As if to emphasize his guilt, Mayhew did something new and awful to Gabriel, making my ex cry out in a horrible way. ¡°Please, Tyler. Believe I am who I say I am, and I swear to God I will explain everything to you if we get out of this alive.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t,¡± Mayhew said. ¡°No one will make it out alive.¡±


    Tyler stared at me for a heartbeat, then moved closer to Cedes and aimed his own weapon at Mayhew. I hadn¡¯t bothered pulling a weapon since I¡¯d left Columbia. Nothing I¡¯d brought with me was any use against a full-blooded demon, and I¡¯d left my gun with Holden in case he needed the firepower to keep Lucy safe.


    I only knew one thing that might do me any good, and it was decorating the mantle at my apartment. I hadn¡¯t exactly had an opportunity to swing by home and pick up a katana on my way here, but it was the only thing that would make sense in a fight against an immortal monster.


    ¡°How did he kill the two officers but not you two?¡± I asked when I came up next to them.


    Now that I could see Gabriel, I wished I¡¯d stayed by the door. Mayhew had Gabriel¡¯s arms pinned behind him like the officer at the desk. My ex was on his knees, his handsome face twisted into a grimace. Blood was matted in his hair, and one side of his face was tacky with redness from a gaping cut on his forehead. I was guessing his face had been smashed into the concrete floor. His nose was crooked, and it looked like Mayhew had dislocated both shoulders.


    I felt like I was being punished for every awful, painful thing I¡¯d wished on Gabriel after he left me. Seeing him now with tears pouring down his cheeks and pitiful, mewling pants coming from his lips, I wanted to take it all back. Be careful what you wish for, they always warn you. Who knew my vindictive fantasies could come so cruelly to life?


    Mercedes had apparently been answering my question, but I hadn¡¯t heard a damn thing she¡¯d said. ¡°¡­you went for the door before I could stop you. By the time Tyler and I got here, well¡­¡± Her gaze drifted to the macabre tableau outside the door. ¡°It was too late.¡±


    Mayhew¡¯s face was splattered with blood, making the whites of his eyes shine impressively.

 Page 37

    ¡°Drop the act,¡± I told him. ¡°I bet you¡¯re plenty impressive in your true form.¡±


    He clucked his tongue at me and yanked back on Gabriel¡¯s arms, the heel of my favorite boot jammed in his spine. Even though they were a demonic approximation, I didn¡¯t know if I¡¯d ever be able to wear the real thing again. And my leather pants were going in an incinerator when I got home.


    If I got home.


    Gabriel¡¯s head lolled forward. His body had finally given up, and he¡¯d passed out. It meant he was worse off than I wanted to think about, but it also meant he wasn¡¯t feeling it when the stiletto heel punctured his spinal column.


    The killer instinct told me to dive through the open cell door and make a grab for him. A much stronger survivor instinct forced me not to move. Mayhew wanted a reaction out of me. He was trying to goad me into acting stupidly, and I wasn¡¯t going to give him the satisfaction. I¡¯d done enough stupid shit this past week to last a lifetime. If I added to the list now, more people would die, and I¡¯d never forgive myself.


    ¡°Who was Oliver Mayhew?¡± I asked.


    Mayhew let up on Gabriel¡¯s arms, and the unconscious man slumped forward, collapsing into a heap on the floor like a broken mannequin. Obviously unable to resist showing off for a captive audience, the demon¡¯s eyes glowed red, and he demonstrated his remarkable ability to shift forms. One moment we were looking at a blood-spattered Secret McQueen, the next Mayhew was a tweed-clad professor without a drop of crimson on him.


    The detectives inhaled sharply in unison.


    Mayhew must have loved shock and awe, because he shifted into a few other forms for good measure. Trish, Angie, poor Ellory from Lincoln, Nebraska. It was enough. If we walked away from this, Professor Oliver Mayhew would be the obvious culprit in the investigation. How we would spin it so the mundane public would believe it was too much for me to think about right then. But I knew it would be easier to sell the story if Mayhew was dead and gone.


    He shifted from Ellory back to the professor form and grinned at Mercedes.


    ¡°O formosa, te volo gustare.¡±


    I looked at her. ¡°Do you know what he said?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°No. I don¡¯t even know what language that was.¡±


    ¡°It was Latin.¡± Holden came through the door. ¡°And you don¡¯t want to know what he said.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you brought your corpse,¡± Mayhew sneered. ¡°Did he bring the girl with him?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re never getting Lucy,¡± Holden said flatly. ¡°She¡¯s safe now.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± He straightened the lapels of his tweed blazer and adjusted the silk pocket square. ¡°The night is young. And I have many more visits to make.¡± His twinkling eyes pivoted towards me, and when he smiled again it was with the shark teeth he¡¯d displayed in the basement. ¡°I¡¯m almost done here.¡±


    Three vampire wardens had come to stand behind Holden. One was whispering animatedly on a cell phone and pointing to the mess behind him as if the person on the other end could see what he was looking at. The wardens stared past Holden and at me, each bobbing their head in a half-bow as was proper when in the presence of a Tribunal leader.


    ¡°Take care of this,¡± I told them. ¡°But no one touches these two.¡± Cedes and Tyler seemed puzzled. ¡°They belong to me.¡±


    Well fuck, now I had two more humans I was responsible for. Was I ready to give my life for Tyler? I looked at him¡ªhis gun still trained on Mayhew¡ªand reminded myself I wouldn¡¯t be alive today if it wasn¡¯t for him.


    ¡°As charming as this is,¡± Mayhew cut in, his British accent at odds with his pointy teeth and coal-red eyes, ¡°I¡¯ve got work to finish.¡± He dove at Gabriel with speed even a vampire couldn¡¯t match. Before anyone in the room had a chance to respond, there was a fleshy rending noise and something white and glistening dangled from Mayhew¡¯s bloodied hands.


    Gabriel¡¯s spine.


    In a better time, it would have made for a great one-liner about my spineless ex-boyfriend. Instead I fought against a new wave of bile threatening to become vomit. Tyler lost his own battle, turning away from the scene to throw up behind us. Cedes had more presence of mind than both of us. In spite of my promise that bullets wouldn¡¯t harm the demon, she emptied her clip into Mayhew¡¯s head.


    Had he been a vampire or some other kind of paranormal, he¡¯d be dead as a doornail. There was a hole clean through the middle of his forehead that showed light from the other side. Instead of falling down dead next to Gabriel¡¯s mutilated corpse, Mayhew stuck a finger into the open hole in his head and prodded around, seemingly amused by the new air circulation in his skull.


    ¡°In the Middle Ages, doctors would cut holes in the skulls of patients if they believed a demon was trapped within. Trepanation, it¡¯s called. Your system is much faster.¡± He grinned at Cedes and plucked one of the bullets out of his gray matter, before flicking it back at her. ¡°Too bad neither method kills demons.¡±


    In a flash he was on the run again, knocking Cedes against Tyler, both detectives hitting the floor in a heap. I was on the demon¡¯s heels, but I¡¯d never seen anything move this fast. Another group of wardens dodged out of my way as I bounded up the stairs. When I reached the main work floor, all the detectives were staring forward at their desks in a mutual trance thanks to the efficient work of my wardens. Asking the detectives which way the wicked professor had gone wouldn¡¯t do me any good.


    I needed a weapon, and I needed a shot in hell.


    I knew where to find both.


    Chapter Thirty-Two


    Desmond met me at the corner of West 52nd and 8th with a sword and an apparent willingness to turn it on me. When I ran up to him, instead of an open-armed embrace, he bashed me in the sternum with the sheathed blade and stepped back.


    ¡°Fucking hell,¡± I cursed, rubbing my bruised breastbone.


    ¡°Say the word.¡±


    ¡°Asshole?¡± I muttered.


    He prepared to draw out the blade.


    ¡°Dracula. Dracula. Jesus, Des. Couldn¡¯t you have asked before hitting me?¡±


    ¡°Your message was pretty adamant I shoot first, ask questions later.¡±


    ¡°Well thank goodness you didn¡¯t bring a gun.¡± I held out my hand, and he passed my sword over. The katana seemed to warm up the moment my fingers brushed the hilt, like it knew it was in proper hands again.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡±


    ¡°You are going home. Locking the doors and not coming out again until I say so.¡±


    ¡°Like fucking hell I am.¡±


    ¡°Desmond¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, shut up for a second, please,¡± he interrupted. I was too stupefied to counter, so he continued undeterred, ¡°I¡¯ve let you run off like some gung-ho warrior samurai one too many times. When you fought Marcus, you almost died. When you went to fight the vampire out in Rhinebeck last summer, you almost died. When you saved Penny at Christmas, you almost¡ª¡±


    ¡°Almost doesn¡¯t count.¡±


    ¡°Well for me, it does. And I¡¯m not letting you run off without me again.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t some rogue vampire. This is a demon with a vendetta against me who has promised to kill everyone I love. I can¡¯t let you come with me.¡±


    ¡°All the more reason you should let me come with you.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°I am an alpha werewolf. I¡¯m not some weak, helpless human boyfriend you need to protect. You need help.¡±


    ¡°And what, you¡¯re going to turn into a wolf and bite him?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He stepped away and disappeared next to the coffee shop. I heard a car door slam, then a moment later he returned holding my antique broadsword. ¡°You seemed to think only serious metal would work against this thing, otherwise you wouldn¡¯t have asked me to bring you the sword. I figure swords are like heads. Two are better than one.¡±


    I gaped at him. ¡°If anything happens to you¡­¡±


    ¡°You think I don¡¯t feel the same way about you risking your life?¡±


    That I couldn¡¯t argue with. It was grossly unfair for me to expect him to sit at home and twiddle his thumbs while I ran off to what would likely be my death. If he wanted to come, who was I to stop him? And frankly, an extra sword would come in pretty handy.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how this is going to work with you along for the ride,¡± I confessed.


    ¡°How so?¡±


    I nodded to the door of the Starbucks we stood in front of. Thankfully winter traffic at midnight was at an all-time low that night. No one had noticed a couple wielding heavy weaponry in front of the twenty-four-hour coffee shop yet. I wanted to get inside before we drew any unwanted attention.


    Problem was, I wanted to cross into Calliope¡¯s realm, and I couldn¡¯t do that with a werewolf. Rules were rules. She¡¯d once explained that shifters couldn¡¯t come into her reality because time didn¡¯t function the same there. No one could guarantee how a werewolf would react in her world, and the last thing anyone needed on their hands was an out-of-control shapeshifter.


    This was going to go over swimmingly. If it went over at all.


    ¡°Give me the sword,¡± I said. I¡¯d never tried to ferry someone across with me who wasn¡¯t a vampire, and I didn¡¯t know if I could force Desmond across the barrier with me. He looked like he was going to protest until I explained. ¡°If you don¡¯t make it through, I don¡¯t want you standing in there carrying a fucking sword.¡±


    He accepted my explanation and handed the broadsword over. I grasped both cumbersome weapons in one hand and held my other out for him.


    ¡°Whatever you do, don¡¯t let go.¡±


    Desmond nodded, and together we crossed the threshold. It didn¡¯t feel like any other crossing I¡¯d previously made into Calliope¡¯s realm. Whenever I went through the doors it was a smooth transition from one plane to the next, like walking through a chilly air-compressed doorway. With Desmond clinging to my hand, the dimensional gate didn¡¯t know what to do with us.


    There was a struggle between the worlds as to where we belonged, and which plane would accept us. A strong force pulled Desmond back in the direction we¡¯d come from, and I clung to his hand. His fingers dug into my wrist as supernatural forces fought to tear us apart.

 Page 38

    With him being pulled backwards and me trying to move us forward, we were stuck in a void between worlds. I¡¯d never noticed before how cold the air was, or how little of it there was to breathe. I sucked in a deep breath, but it felt like swallowing ashes.


    ¡°Desmond,¡± I choked.


    His eyes were shut tight, tears welling at the corners, and then he began to dig his fingers harder into my arm. The pain shocked me into action and, after a breathless tug threatened to yank us back once and for all, I forced us onward.


    The entrance to Starbucks vanished, and the Oracle¡¯s waiting room appeared.


    When I turned, Desmond was still with me, wide-eyed, holding my hand tighter than ever. I looked down at his fingers and swallowed hard. His hand had partially shifted, just like my own earlier that week. His nails were dark with my blood and buried a half-inch deep in my skin. When I looked back at his eyes the pupils were shifting, changing from human to wolf even as I watched.


    I¡¯d managed to break Calliope¡¯s no-werewolves-allowed rule, and now I was getting an in-your-face visual on why she¡¯d made it in the first place.


    I could only think of one thing to do.


    I slapped him as hard as I could and, doing my best Cher impression, demanded, ¡°Snap out of it.¡±


    He shuddered, but his hand dropped from my wrist and his eyes shifted back to normal. Barely through the door and we were already in way over our heads. Story of my life.


    I had to find Calliope and get what we needed so we could get out of here tout suite.


    The Oracle in question was nestled in the lap of a young man who was eighteen, give or take a year. I knew she had a tendency to feed off teenagers, but I¡¯d never witnessed her in the process of doing it. Calliope fed on two things: fresh blood and aura energy. Since there didn¡¯t appear to be any open wounds on the entranced minor, I gathered she was stealing bits of his aura.


    It was a hell of a thing to see, and it seemed to pull Desmond more into the here and now.


    The kid¡¯s head was haloed in a purplish light, and Calliope was drinking it in from his open mouth. Her aura was a radiant blend of color, different bits and pieces stolen from a variety of pizza-delivery boys and lost coffee-shop patrons. Extending out from her aura were two nearly transparent wings, more like a dragonfly¡¯s than a butterfly¡¯s, but unmistakably fairy in origin. I¡¯d never seen any evidence of the Oracle¡¯s fairy half before and had long believed it was manifested only in her immortality and general lack of concern for humans.


    Apparently I was wrong.


    ¡°Should we be helping him?¡± Desmond asked, stirring Calliope from her feeding trance. Desmond got his first good look at the immortal¡¯s famous face and whispered, ¡°Holy shit.¡± Guess he was feeling a bit better.


    ¡°I know. It¡¯s a little off-putting the first time.¡±


    He looked around the room, his traveling gaze lighting upon the Andy Warhol portrait, then back to Calliope, who appeared none too pleased. ¡°Wow.¡±


    ¡°Secret, what is this?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the Oracle, Cal. Didn¡¯t see this one coming?¡±


    She rose from the stunned boy¡¯s lap, and he stared straight ahead like the enthralled detectives back at the police station. Ignoring me, she fixed her attention on Desmond. ¡°Give me your hands, wolf,¡± she demanded.


    Guess she was allowed to be a little cranky when I showed up unannounced, breaking one of her cardinal rules and interrupting her midnight snack. Desmond looked at me for help, but I nodded. It wasn¡¯t that long ago Calliope had my own hands in hers and told me a truth I wasn¡¯t willing to hear. I glanced at my left palm, my right hand still occupied with the swords, and wondered if I was making a huge mistake by accepting Lucas¡¯s proposal. The shortened lifeline stared back at me, giving me no answers, just mocking me with its presence.


    ¡°You must never come here again,¡± Calliope warned Desmond, but she wasn¡¯t focused on him. Instead she was running her fingernails over the werewolf¡¯s palms, occasionally sniffing or quirking a brow. ¡°Interesting,¡± she said at last, dropping his hands. She turned from him to me and then back again. ¡°Very interesting.¡± This time she smiled.


    ¡°What?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Never you mind,¡± she said, winking at him, all of her former grumpiness fading and her usual carefree, no-worries self shining back through, then she turned her full attention to me. ¡°I told you you¡¯d be back.¡±


    ¡°Who am I to argue with fate?¡±


    ¡°Fates,¡± she corrected. ¡°And don¡¯t. They never forget a slight.¡±


    ¡°I gather you don¡¯t know why I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°I was a little preoccupied.¡± She gave the dozing boy a mournful glance. ¡°He tasted like grape Kool-Aid. Delightful.¡±


    Instead of letting her wax poetic about her young visitor¡¯s youthful flavor, I cut to the chase. ¡°What do you know about a demon who can steal identities?¡±


    She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. ¡°All demons can to some extent, though most do it by necessity.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Most demons can¡¯t manifest on Earth without a host. Like how some diseases won¡¯t function in the body until they attach to cells. Demons can¡¯t maintain a presence on earth without a carrier. And usually the carrier is the person who summoned them. A sorcerer or a witch in most cases.¡±


    ¡°How long does the¡­manifestation last?¡±


    ¡°Depends on the strength of the summoner. Some of the weaker ones will invoke a low-level demon for a half-hour, sort of like an adrenaline rush or a drug high. If a practitioner were to invoke a demon outside their capacity for control, though? The consequences could be disastrous.¡±


    ¡°Could a demon ever manifest as multiple humans?¡±


    ¡°A really old, powerful one might be able to, given enough time.¡±


    ¡°How long would a demon have to be earthbound in order to manifest, say¡­six or seven different forms?¡±


    Calliope let out a low whistle. ¡°If it were possible?¡±


    ¡°Trust me. It is.¡±


    The Oracle shook her head. ¡°Centuries. If it can shift manifestations easily? Possibly a thousand years or more.¡± She gave me a serious look. ¡°Are you hunting an old one?¡±


    ¡°The oldest,¡± I agreed with a nod.


    ¡°No wonder I couldn¡¯t see you coming tonight,¡± she said with a sigh.


    ¡°Why?¡± Desmond asked, breaking his silence.


    ¡°I can only see those with a certain future.¡± Calliope took my hand and squeezed it. ¡°The minute you crossed a demon, your future went out the window.¡±


    Chapter Thirty-Three


    ¡°Tell me something I don¡¯t already know.¡± I forced a smile, but it must have come out wrong because Calliope didn¡¯t look impressed. ¡°I need your help finding the demon. I¡¯ll take care of my own uncertain future after that.¡±


    Desmond took the broadsword out of my hand, lightening my burden considerably.


    Calliope sighed again. ¡°Do you have anything to connect you to the demon?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll say. Damn thing sucked out a whack of my memories and walked around Midtown Manhattan wearing my face.¡±


    ¡°I can work with that.¡±


    We followed her out of the waiting room, Desmond taking one last look at the boy who had fallen asleep smiling. ¡°Are you sure he¡¯s okay?¡±


    ¡°Of course he¡¯s okay,¡± Calliope replied, somewhat indignantly. ¡°Do I look like a monster to you?¡±


    Desmond, smart werewolf boyfriend that he was, said nothing. Calliope¡¯s house could expand and contract in size according to necessity. The mansion was especially large today, meaning she had a full house. When we came to a stop in front of an intimidating dark-wood door with a series of carvings depicting monsters I¡¯d never seen before, Calliope rounded on us and gave me a serious look.


    ¡°Do you know what you¡¯re doing?¡±


    ¡°Do I ever?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m serious, Secret. Do you know how to kill a demon?¡±


    I stared at the sword in my hand. ¡°Umm¡­no.¡±


    Calliope reached for my katana, but the moment she touched it the sword emitted a piercing hiss. That was new. She withdrew her hand and glared at the Japanese weapon like it had insulted her. She grumbled something at it in a fae language, and the noise dulled.


    ¡°Where did you get that?¡± she asked me.


    ¡°Koreatown.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± This time she turned to Desmond and held out a hand for his broadsword, which he gave her without question. The medieval blade didn¡¯t respond to her touch in any way. I stared at my own sword again and marveled at what it had done. It had reacted similarly to the white-haired fae and the ogre. Was this what the fae shopkeeper was talking about when he told me about the katana¡¯s darkness? Calliope cleared her throat to get my attention back. ¡°There are two ways to kill a demon. Destroy the heart.¡± She mimed stabbing Desmond in the chest with the blade, and he and I both winced. ¡°Or decapitation.¡±


    ¡°Oh, good old decapitation,¡± I said dreamily.


    ¡°But with either method, you must destroy the object completely. If you merely stab a demon in the chest, you will not kill it. If you cut off its head but leave the body and head together, it will regenerate. It would be easier to send it back from whence it came, but you need the demon¡¯s true name for that.¡±


    ¡°I tried. He wasn¡¯t exactly forthcoming when we played the name game.¡±


    Calliope put a hand on each of my shoulders and pulled me close for a hug. With her lips next to my ear, she whispered, ¡°One day you will die standing by someone you love, Secret. Today is not that day.¡± When she withdrew she gave me a meaningful look and squeezed my right hand in spite of the sword I held. The hand with the longer lifeline. She gave one last nod like she knew something she wasn¡¯t telling me. Considering she was an immortal seer of the future, I was pretty sure she was holding something big as her ace in the hole.


    ¡°I thought you said my future was uncertain.¡±

 Page 39

    ¡°You have a destiny. I need to make sure you¡¯re around to fulfill it.¡± She released my hand and turned to Desmond, mirroring the gesture she¡¯d just made to me. When she pulled away from him, he smiled weakly and gave her a nod.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± he asked.


    She patted his cheek. ¡°Keep her alive tonight, and I can guarantee it.¡±


    The pair didn¡¯t look at me until their moment came to an end. Calliope faced me wearily and held out a hand. I placed my left hand in hers, palm up, and before I knew what was happening she withdrew a thin, twisted blade from God knows where and raked it across my skin.


    ¡°Ow,¡± I whined.


    ¡°Shush,¡± she instructed. ¡°Now touch the door.¡±


    I did as I was told and laid my bloody palm against the old wood, wondering for the first time how the door¡¯s stain came to be so dark. For a beat nothing happened, then a bright, blinding white light appeared in the center of the door, illuminating a crack that hadn¡¯t been there before. I stepped back in time for the doors to swing open towards us.


    I¡¯d expected the opening to be as luminous as that first light, but when the doors were ajar, all I could see was a pit of darkness so vast my vampire vision couldn¡¯t penetrate it.


    ¡°Hold on to each other,¡± Calliope said, yelling. The darkness was howling like a fierce winter wind. ¡°Don¡¯t let go.¡±


    Desmond took the instruction to heart and pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me and dragging my lips to his for a bone-trembling kiss. His eyes were damp when he pulled back. ¡°Whatever happens,¡± he said, ¡°know I love you.¡±


    I ran my free hand down his cheek and hugged him tightly. ¡°I love you too,¡± I whispered into his ear, not sure if he could hear me over the screaming black void.


    ¡°That¡¯ll do just fine,¡± Calliope said, then shoved me and Desmond into the darkness and slammed the door behind us.


    Chapter Thirty-Four


    The sensation of falling was like something out of a bad nightmare, but the impact of landing was real enough. I crashed against hard cement, still clutching my sword, with Desmond on top of me, his own blade dangerously close to stabbing me.


    I pushed him off me and rolled away from the broadsword, unsheathing my katana as I straightened up, taking in our surroundings.


    ¡°Well I¡¯ll be giddy goddamned,¡± I muttered.


    Desmond came to stand next to me and not for the first time that night was reduced to saying, ¡°Wow.¡± This time, though, it was the only appropriate response.


    Calliope had a magic door that could drop people on top of the bloody Empire State Building.


    My mouth hung agape, and it was hard to process what I was looking at. I¡¯d lived in New York for seven years and had tracked any number of paranormal creatures from one end of the island to the other, but never in that entire time had I come up to see this iconic view. I¡¯d missed a lot of popular tourist draws, as was true for many locals. But standing here behind the raised bars meant to protect visitors from falling¡ªor jumping¡ªI wondered why I¡¯d waited so long.


    ¡°Pretty, isn¡¯t it?¡± a familiar British accent enquired.


    Mayhew, still wearing his professor face, walked casually around the west corner of the observation deck, his hands in his pockets and his gaze turned out to the sparkling magical vista of the famous city. For one brief moment he looked a little sad.


    I let my sword¡¯s sheath clatter to the ground and lifted my blade in preparation. Desmond took a step back and held his sword by his side, waiting to see what would happen next.


    The professor ignored my attack posture and peered around me like I didn¡¯t exist. ¡°It looks as though you brought one of your wolves. Did he get a chance to see the show?¡± Given how many times I¡¯d experienced Mayhew shift forms tonight, one might think I¡¯d have gotten used to it. But, no. There was no magic number of times that made it any less unsettling to see my face on a demon.


    Desmond, witnessing it for the first time, swallowed a sound that might have been a yelp.


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s fucked up, isn¡¯t it?¡± I said.


    ¡°I thought you were exaggerating.¡±


    Mayhew smiled, and his crazy-ass demon teeth ruined the illusion. ¡°It was very considerate of you, Miss McQueen, to bring me your beloved so I could obliterate him.¡±


    My grip tightened on the sword handle. ¡°Believe it or not, that wasn¡¯t my thought process.¡±


    ¡°Well, finding America wasn¡¯t Columbus¡¯s goal either, yet we still found ourselves here.¡±


    Oh please let that be a turn of speech. I didn¡¯t want to imagine this demon coming across on the Santa Maria and waiting around to play identity theft with the Native Americans and the first comers on the Mayflower. It was a bit much.


    I edged down the wheelchair ramp in the opposite direction of Mayhew. Desmond took the hint, following at my heels. The demon didn¡¯t seem to care much that we were moving away from him, but I¡¯d witnessed firsthand how fast he was. We could be halfway to Connecticut and he¡¯d still be able to catch us.


    ¡°Can I ask you something?¡± I wasn¡¯t sure why I was engaging him, but I figured if he was being passive for the moment I might get some nagging questions off my chest. I doubted I¡¯d get an honest answer from a demon, but it was worth a shot.


    He cocked his head to the side, red eyes glowing, and chuckled. ¡°You amuse me, halfling.¡±


    I gathered I was supposed to take this as a compliment. I bet it was tough to tickle his funny bone after a thousand years of stealing people¡¯s identities.


    ¡°What were you looking for at the museum? When I saw you there as the mousy girl, Ellory, you were searching for something. It couldn¡¯t have been your next meal, because there sure as hell wasn¡¯t anyone around for you to eat.¡±


    His smile faded. Guess he hadn¡¯t figured me for being blonde and smart. I was a true double threat. He took a step closer, and Desmond and I backed up instinctively, both of us raising our weapons.


    ¡°Do you know what it feels like to be trapped here, in this world, being forced to inhabit a human form?¡±


    ¡°Uhh, yes.¡±


    ¡°I was a destroyer of worlds. A master among the demon class.¡± His voice bubbled with rage. Now I knew what it sounded like every time I yelled at Lucas. ¡°Then some half-rate mage calls me up by accident, mistaking my name for some idiot lust demon.¡± Mayhew¡¯s lip curled, and he spat on the ground. ¡°And suddenly I¡¯m stuck.¡±


    It was more of an honest answer than I¡¯d anticipated. More of one than he¡¯d planned to give too, apparently, since he was now glaring at me. ¡°There is a way to unlock the binding. That is what I was looking for. The key to my freedom. Only a stupid girl with a sword interrupted me. She seems to spoil all my plans.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a notorious buzzkill,¡± I agreed.


    Using kill in relation to a discussion about me might not have been my most genius play on words to date.


    Mayhew advanced another half-dozen steps. ¡°Hac nocte morieris.¡±


    I didn¡¯t understand the words, but it wouldn¡¯t be the first time someone had threatened me in a language I couldn¡¯t translate. It would be the first time I¡¯d challenged myself in a battle to the death, though.


    I looked at Desmond and indicated the ramp with the slightest darting of my gaze. ¡°Head and heart,¡± I whispered.


    He inched away from me, staring at the advancing demon. When I lunged for Mayhew, Desmond was a blur in the corner of my eye, bolting past us. It was the last peripheral thing I saw before I collided with my spitting image, and we fell to the ground in a tangle of gnashing teeth and flailing limbs.


    ¡°Vile girl,¡± the demon seethed, this time in English. ¡°Killing you will be my greatest triumph in a lifetime.¡±


    I rolled off him and crouched a few feet away with my sword poised, ready to spring. ¡°In whose lifetime?¡±


    Mayhew wiped a thin trickle of blood off his lip. I don¡¯t know when I landed a punch, but I had gotten lucky at some point. I smiled maniacally, but my victory celebration was short-lived. As it turns out, demons only like to see blood when they¡¯re drawing someone else¡¯s.


    ¡°Insolent half-breed freak.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to resort to name-calling.¡± Yeah, that¡¯s right, Secret. Keep poking the hornet¡¯s nest.


    He clambered to his feet, rising over me in my supine position. His glowing eyes glimmered brighter than ever before, and in one swift motion he grabbed me by the hair and hoisted me off the ground.


    Self-defense classes warn how long hair and ponytails can be used against you by potential attackers. It¡¯s true. But let¡¯s be clear about this, in a fight against a demon any hair could be used against you. I might as well have been bald given how Mayhew¡¯s clawed fingernails dug into my scalp, sending a radiant aura of pain through my nerve sensors.


    Who knew hair-pulling could hurt so badly? I took back every catty thing I¡¯d ever said about the ladies on Jersey Shore.


    The major pitfall of hauling me around this way was it left Mayhew¡¯s midsection exposed and kept him one arm short.


    As he went to toss me off the building¡ªor to attempt it, since the wonderful safety-minded keepers of the tower had seen fit to add lovely high bars as a barricade¡ªDesmond made his move.


    Had I not been dangling by my hair, precariously avoiding a substantial fall, I would have taken a longer time to enjoy the visual of my strong, handsome boyfriend running into the fray with his broadsword raised, like an extra from Braveheart. The only thing missing was the battle cry, but Desmond darted towards us quietly so as not to draw attention to himself.


    I would have to stock the visual away for late nights when I was home alone.


    Desmond swung the sword in a horizontal arc aimed for Mayhew¡¯s neck. He would have done it too if Mayhew hadn¡¯t sensed the attack and shifted forms. As me, or as the professor, he was short enough to be lobotomized by Desmond¡¯s swing. As Angie, who might as well have been a part-time supermodel with her mile-long legs and stupid heels, he was now tall enough to take the hit in the arm instead of the neck.

 Page 40

    Goddamn shapeshifting demons.


    The force of the blow was enough to make Mayhew release me. I kicked off from the wall when his grip slackened, and rolled away before bouncing back to my feet. For the time being Mayhew had forgotten all about me, which was awesome except for one problem. It meant he was now focused on Desmond. The demon looked intent on following through with his promise to murder my live-in loved one.


    Mayhew struck a hard blow and knocked Desmond to the ground.


    The werewolf backpedaled, moving himself out of the path of Mayhew¡¯s next strike. The punch landed on concrete and left a disconcerting crater where my boyfriend¡¯s head had previously been. If I left Desmond fighting the demon on his own much longer, the next crater would be in his skull.


    I climbed onto the ledge on the outside of the observation deck, avoiding a bank of viewfinders and using the metal bars to guide me along the narrow path that rose and fell in height like a brick wave. I got within a few feet of their tussle and waited for my opportunity to show itself.


    If Desmond saw me, he made no indication of it, keeping his eyes fixed on Mayhew and preparing himself for the next assault. Mayhew was like a cobra, swaying in place to some internal melody and looking almost benign as he waited for the right moment. The demon was a predator in the truest sense of the word. Instead of diving in willy-nilly, he wouldn¡¯t move again until he thought he could strike a death blow.


    There was definitely a death blow coming. It just wouldn¡¯t be delivered by the demon.


    There was no better time than now to make my move, and if I waited any longer, Desmond might be dead and I¡¯d never get another chance.


    I leaped through the air with my sword angled for a heart strike. The blade hit first, piercing the bare skin of Mayhew-as-Angie¡¯s back. My weight collided next, and we both pitched forward. My momentum rammed the sword through flesh and bone until it crashed into Mayhew¡¯s sternum and thrust out the other side.


    Direct hit.


    We were falling, and I realized a moment too late where we were going to land.


    ¡°Roll, roll, roll,¡± I screamed, but Desmond didn¡¯t hear me or didn¡¯t process the words in time.


    Mayhew landed on top of Desmond, and I was still firmly on top of Mayhew. All three layers of the pile were connected via the sword like a demon-werewolf shish kebab. Over Mayhew¡¯s shoulder I saw Desmond¡¯s eyes widen and his mouth form a surprised O. He¡¯d been hit by the blade, there was no doubt in my mind.


    ¡°Are you okay? Desmond, are you okay? Oh God I¡¯m so sorry. Desmond?¡±


    He blinked a few times, fighting back tears, then wheezed, ¡°Get him off me.¡±


    I got to my feet, bracing my heel against Mayhew¡¯s back like he¡¯d done with Gabriel, and tugged on the sword, expecting it to slide out easily. It didn¡¯t budge. I pulled harder, but still the sword wouldn¡¯t move. Even if the blade was embedded in a stubborn bone shard, there was no way it would be stuck like this. Every time I pulled, Desmond winced.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m trying.¡±


    That perfectly ideal moment was when Mayhew decided to come to. The demon was face-to-face with Desmond, and the werewolf had no way to protect himself if Mayhew went for his throat. I started yanking on the blade harder and harder, standing with both feet on the demon¡¯s back as I tried like a would-be Arthur to remove the stubborn Excalibur from its lodging.


    Then I felt the heat.


    The katana¡¯s handle grew warmer as it had at Calliope¡¯s. Warmth transformed into heat, and heat into an unbearable fire. I wanted to let go but found myself unable to release the weapon. The phoenix inset on the handle of the sword glowed bright red to match the searing pain.


    Mayhew must have felt it too. Instead of finishing off Desmond, the demon reared back his head and let out a terrifying bellow. His body bucked, trying to knock me off, and both his hands reached around in an attempt to withdraw the blade.


    My skin bubbled and split, my open palms fusing to the phoenix design. The dragon pattern of the blade began to glow. It started out faint, but as Mayhew¡¯s blood flowed up the blade¡ªan impossibility of physics¡ªthe light turned white and so intense I couldn¡¯t look directly at it. When the demon¡¯s blood reached the hilt of the sword, there was a loud pop, the same kind you hear when a jet breaks the sound barrier.


    The sword suddenly yielded to my desperate pulls, and the weapon and I tumbled backwards, the handle still melted to my skin. Mayhew staggered to his feet, no longer holding one form. He shifted through all the human identities he¡¯d had, dozens of them I¡¯d never seen before, then they all started getting mixed up. My hair would end up on the professor¡¯s face, or Trish¡¯s head would find its way onto the body of a German SS officer. That one was especially off-putting.


    Finally the transformations stopped, leaving his form a bizarre Frankenstein monster mishmash of all the people he¡¯d been. He pointed at the sword, which was still glowing red and white in my hand but no longer hot enough to burn me. Or maybe I was numb to the pain.


    ¡°You,¡± he raged. ¡°You had it all along.¡±


    I looked at the sword. The phoenix inlay was made of some kind of metal alloy. The dragon was gold. Or at least that was what they appeared to be to the untrained eye. Where had I found Mayhew at the museum? In the geology department. He said he¡¯d been looking for something to send him back. The lights emanating from the sword pulsed as if to congratulate me on my understanding.


    The sword was the key to releasing him.


    I staggered to my feet and braced myself. If he wanted to go back to his kingdom in hell, I was more than happy to send him there.


    He lurched forward a step, then stopped. Tried to move again, but this time stumbled. He lifted his head and snarled, and I growled back with my fangs bared for good measure. Mayhew rose to one knee. After a split-second pause his body fractured, splitting open at seams I couldn¡¯t see. Only then did I understand what releasing the demon meant.


    The blade didn¡¯t send him home.


    The blade gave him back his true form.


    Chapter Thirty-Five


    Mayhew the identity-stealing demon was gone.


    When the real Mayhew straightened his posture, he was something different and too terrifying to comprehend. I¡¯d fought scary monsters in my time. Vampires, weres and a tidal fae I thought would never be topped on the creepy scale. Boy was I wrong.


    Mayhew¡¯s demon form was easily twelve feet tall. His skin was solid black, a leather-like hide over his whole body. With legs as thick with muscle as tree trunks and arms bigger around than any part of my body, I was pretty sure hand-to-hand combat was out.


    Two huge blood-red horns jutted out of his forehead, wrapped around the back of his bat-like ears, and curved back along the path of his jaw, forming points near his mouth as if directing my vision to the teeth within. I didn¡¯t need any help noticing the teeth. They were massive, exaggerated versions of his former shark teeth. Those had been intimidating enough. These looked like they could saw through bone with one snap of his hideous jaws.


    Worse still, he was smiling at me.


    The demon cracked his neck and rolled his giant shoulders. The talons on the end of his fingers were the same dark red as his horns. Must be handy to avoid unsightly bloodstains. He shook himself like a wet dog, and just when I thought it couldn¡¯t get worse, it got so much worse.


    Two leathery wings unfurled off his back. They were too big to be compared to a bat¡¯s. They were what I imagined dragon wings look like. They spanned so wide he couldn¡¯t stretch them out across the observation deck between the building and the ledge.


    ¡°Crap.¡±


    ¡°Little girl,¡± he boomed, his demon voice resonating like thunder trapped in his enormous diaphragm. The cement beneath my feet rumbled. ¡°You have released me.¡±


    ¡°Awesome. Do I get three wishes?¡±


    ¡°Secret,¡± Desmond hissed. ¡°Shut up.¡±


    He was crouched next to one of the viewfinders. I don¡¯t know when he scuttled past Mayhew, but I was grateful he wasn¡¯t too injured to move. I could smell fresh blood on him, but now wasn¡¯t the time to check battle scars.


    Mayhew as a demon apparently found me way funnier than Mayhew trapped in human form. The beast boomed out a laugh that made the metal bars hum and would likely be mistaken for a freak thunderstorm all over the city.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you rub me and find out?¡± He chuckled.


    That was the first time I noticed the demon wasn¡¯t wearing a lick of clothing.


    ¡°Ewww,¡± I managed, raising the sword in case the demon had any intention of putting his twisted, corkscrew, barbed penis anywhere near me. I didn¡¯t think that sucker would hurt so good. I know I should have been happy he was in high spirits, but I didn¡¯t want him in too chipper of a mood.


    He flexed his wings, turning sideways so he could stretch them to their full width, nearly clipping me in the face with one taloned wing-barb.


    I swatted him with the sword. ¡°Watch it.¡±


    ¡°You have a very¡­open mouth for a woman.¡± He folded his wings and turned to face me directly again, looking mystified and a little bemused.


    ¡°Is that a polite way of saying I talk too much?¡±


    The demon chuckled, and this time I could see how many rows of those nasty teeth he had in his mouth. ¡°Because you have freed me and have amused me, I believe I will overlook your trespasses against me. You are lucky halfling. I will let you live. Just give me the sword.¡±


    ¡°What is it with you and the stipulations? Give me the girl. Give me the sword.¡±


    ¡°I only ask for that which is yours to provide. I did not say, give me the vestigial virgin, or bring me the blood of twenty oxen.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s being funny now?¡±


    ¡°Secret,¡± Desmond warned again.


    ¡°Give me the weapon before I grow bored of you.¡± The demon crooked his claws at me.


    I pretended to consider it, then shook my head. ¡°No, thanks. I think I¡¯ll keep it.¡±


    Mayhew stepped forward, the ground trembling and cement fracturing under his immense weight. ¡°You try my patience, girl.¡±


    Shockingly, I had no comeback.

 Page 41

    ¡°I have ways to make you do what I want,¡± the demon promised. ¡°I will enjoy making you bleed.¡±


    I wiggled my fingers, trying to pry the fused skin free from the metal. The sword was still glowing, but with the demon blood quickly drying it lacked the same intensity it first had.


    ¡°You were a big, bad demon ruler in the underworld, weren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I am lord and master of a thousand legions,¡± Mayhew snarled.


    ¡°You think? A thousand years on Earth is like what? Eight bazillion eons in the underworld? Isn¡¯t that how time works there? An hour here is like ten years there or some weird conversion like that.¡±


    ¡°A minute can be an eternity,¡± he said. ¡°As I may force you to experience.¡±


    ¡°So in a thousand years¡¯ worth of eternities, do you honestly think you¡¯ll still be lord and master?¡±


    Mayhew stopped advancing and blinked his crimson eyes at me. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Face it,¡± I continued, edging closer by half-inch increments. ¡°You¡¯ve been replaced.¡±


    The demon bared his teeth at me.


    I wanted to whimper and run, but I squared my shoulders and forced myself to look him in the eye. ¡°When you get home, you¡¯ll be someone¡¯s bitch.¡±


    I had expected him to get mad, to swat at me or growl or tell me I was a useless flesh sack or something. Instead he lowered his head so he could meet my gaze. He didn¡¯t appear defeated, instead he seemed jubilant.


    ¡°Then I won¡¯t go home.¡±


    ¡°W-what?¡±


    ¡°I will build a new kingdom. Isn¡¯t your world always waiting for the end of days? A hell on Earth? I can make it happen. Starting here.¡±


    Awesome. I had singlehandedly convinced a demon to act out some Biblical Revelation-level horror on the citizens of Manhattan. When my plans backfire, they backfire spectacularly. Desmond seemed to agree because he groaned. I should have listened when he told me to shut up.


    ¡°You could have a special place by my side,¡± Mayhew added. ¡°You would have everything you ever dreamed of and more.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± I looked at the demon, then at the expanse of Manhattan, my beloved home. Might be righteous to be the queen of something bigger than a wolf pack. But at what cost? I didn¡¯t think working at Mayhew¡¯s side would give me an all-access spending account at Bergdorf. I was pretty sure his plan was to level the city.


    Besides, my fiance was a billionaire and I had an unlimited Tribunal credit card when a shopping urge struck. I didn¡¯t need a demon sugar daddy to feel all-powerful.


    ¡°No thanks.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You heard me.¡± Then¡ªhaving finally said the one thing that threw him off¡ªI attacked.


    Demon rib cages are more sturdily built than flimsy human ones, but my sword missed the memo on that. It slid between his ribs like his thick flesh was made of melted butter, and pierced his heart for a second time that night.


    I twisted the blade, and a torrent of blood the consistency of molasses poured out from the open wound, coating the sword. The blade, fed anew, almost hummed with energy. This time I was prepared for the heat and light and looked at the demon instead of the blade. ¡°Tell me your name,¡± I demanded. ¡°Tell me your name and I can end this now.¡±


    He blinked stupidly, gawking at the sword protruding from his heart. He swatted at me, but the sword held true, and there was nothing I could do to detach myself from it or it from him. The demon seemed to appreciate our predicament and did something I should have seen coming but hadn¡¯t expected.


    Big, tattered leather wings unfolded and fluttered in the cold February air. My eyes widened as he took a few exploratory swings, his body lifting a foot or two with each flap. He couldn¡¯t be thinking of doing what I thought he was thinking of doing. His wings cut through the air once, twice, and he went up but this time didn¡¯t come back down.


    We hovered six feet off the ground, then seven. When I was eye level with the top of the protective bars, reality kicked in. We weren¡¯t landing. Desmond struggled to his feet, slowed by his wounds, and jumped up to grab my leg. His fingers grazed me, but we¡¯d gotten too high too fast and he wasn¡¯t able to keep hold. Mayhew pushed upwards higher and higher, and I dangled underneath him, tethered to him only by my grip on the sword. When we were clear of the bars, he roared and kicked off from the building.


    In one breath I was twenty-five feet above the observation deck of the Empire State Building, where falling would maybe break my legs and give me one hell of a story to tell. The next moment we were flying over the city and falling would turn me into a pulpy smear some civil servant would spend all morning hosing off the sidewalk.


    And that¡¯s when the sword decided to stop glowing.


    Chapter Thirty-Six


    The sword slipped free of the demon¡¯s chest, and I was airborne.


    I always liked to think I was good in a crisis. A clear thinker when the shit hit the fan. Being thrown into a free fall a thousand feet over the city really tested my opinion about how I handled crisis situations.


    I sucked.


    Both my hands were still fused to the sword, and when the weapon popped out of Mayhew¡¯s sternum I screamed and did the only thing I could think of. I thrust the sword out and prayed like hell I would hit something solid. The demon¡¯s rear foot dropped when he tried to propel himself higher without my weight to drag him down. My sword dug into the meaty tissue of his leg, and I was suddenly thankful for his trunk-thick legs. If not for the extra muscle of his calf, my sword might have cut right through and I¡¯d be left holding a severed leg while I fell to my death. Mayhew bellowed when my blade dug in, and we plummeted a good ten feet.


    As Mayhew regained control of his flight we swung back upwards, barely missing a direct collision with the Chrysler Building. I managed to wrap my whole body around his foot and was holding on for dear life as we soared higher.


    Once he stopped trying to kick me off, I knew I had to find a different position and do something to bring him down before he made good on his promise to destroy the city. A lot of bad guys had promised to do horrible things to New York and its civilian population. Unleashing hungry newborn vampires had been a particularly nasty one. But a demon with a plan to become the dark, unholy lord of the world?


    Well, that took the cake, didn¡¯t it?


    Making sure my thighs were clinging to his foot tighter than a stripper upside-down on a pole, I pulled the sword free. This time it didn¡¯t fight. Maybe it was something specific to Mayhew¡¯s heart blood that activated the lock-and-glow. I didn¡¯t know, and right then I didn¡¯t care.


    I clambered up his flank using my elbows and the sword¡¯s handle to find purchase on his skin. Climbing a demon¡¯s leg would have been hard enough with the use of both hands, but since I couldn¡¯t use either of them, I had to make do. I almost fell a half-dozen times on the short journey from his foot to his back. By the time I¡¯d reached his shoulders, the demon seemed to have decided to ignore me completely.


    His mistake.


    For a few elated seconds I perched on my knees and took a good look at the scene. I was flying over New York with the winter wind stinging my cheeks. The lights of Midtown gave way to the southern part of the island, the only slightly less glamorous Financial District. In a few minutes we¡¯d be over open water, and if I wanted to take him down with minimal human casualties, that was the best place to strike.


    Taking him out mid-flight would mean a several-hundred-foot free fall into frigid February water. If I survived the fall, I wasn¡¯t sure I¡¯d live through the water.


    Calliope said I was supposed to die with someone I loved standing by.


    I guess my future really had gone off track this time.


    Mayhew passed the end of the island and began to rise. We were halfway between lower Manhattan and Liberty Island when I decided if tonight was the night I died, now was as good a time as any. I got to my feet, awkward to maintain my balance even in a low crouch as the demon soared higher.


    I wasn¡¯t a big believer in higher powers, but with my death mere seconds away I figured it couldn¡¯t hurt to put myself in someone¡¯s good graces. I said a prayer, and the wind whipped it out of my mouth as the words were spoken. With nothing left to delay me, I sprang forward, this time not bothering with the heart. Apparently he wasn¡¯t going to make it easy for me to cut a vital organ out of his chest, so I was going to have to go with my favorite standby method of monster-slaying. I stood over Mayhew¡¯s neck and swung my sword like I was on the eighteenth hole at Pebble Beach. It arced downward, and when it split the skin of his throat it roared to life again.


    The ear-splitting pop was almost enough to topple me back off my feet, but I didn¡¯t stop. My arms screamed in protest, and the sword¡¯s progress through his neck seemed to go in slow motion. Mayhew snarled and screamed, but when the sword met his windpipe he was silenced forever.


    And in that silence we fell.


    The sword glowed brighter than ever, and the wind slapped my face. We gained momentum as we plummeted, and the dark surface of the Hudson River seemed to be rising to meet us, it was approaching so quickly.


    Only when my sword cut through the opposite side of the demon¡¯s neck, severing his head cleanly from his shoulders, did I huddle into a ball on his back, hoping the monster¡¯s bulk might help break my fall.


    His head hit the water first, a small warning splash that let me brace for impact an instant before we crashed into the river. My jaws clacked together on impact. All of my bones followed suit, clattering against each other as if I had no skin or muscle to absorb any of the blow. It felt like I¡¯d been hit by a freight train, but I only had a second to appreciate that I¡¯d survived the fall.


    A moment later I was swept off the demon¡¯s back by a hard tug from the freezing current of the river dragging me farther from the mainland. I fought for the surface, kicking hard since I still couldn¡¯t pry my fingers off the sword. The final strike had sealed me to the weapon so firmly I thought I¡¯d need surgery to cut myself free.


    And that was looking on the bright side.


    I broke from the water, gasping in a burning lungful of air. I could hold my breath better than most humans, but I needed something in my lungs to start with. The wind had been knocked out of me during the jarring landing.

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    Cold stung my skin, seeping into my clothes, making my limbs feel heavy and useless. I slipped under the water again, my eyes open and aching. Then, through the murky depths of night-blackened water, I saw Mayhew¡¯s detached head. The demon¡¯s eyes were wide open and seemed impossibly alive and aware.


    When he blinked and gnashed his teeth at me, I screamed. A cold stream of water rushed in, pressing against my impossibly hot internal organs. I felt like I was being steamed from the inside out. Mayhew¡¯s disembodied head continued to snap at me, his mouth growing wider and wider as though he could swallow me whole. I thrust my sword through his open jaws, spearing the living cranium on the tip.


    I know Calliope had told me I needed to destroy the head, but I¡¯d figured it was one of those folksy warnings. I didn¡¯t think his head would actually continue to function when it was removed from the body.


    That bordered a little too close to zombie territory for my liking.


    I reached the surface again, and this time I could see the light of a not-too-distant shore. I sucked in a deep breath, sputtering out some of the remaining river water, then dove back under and kicked like hell.


    For thirty minutes I fought fatigue, hypothermia and traitorous limbs that begged me to give up. When I hit something solid, I wept openly. I didn¡¯t care if my cheeks were stained red. I didn¡¯t care where I¡¯d landed. All I cared was I¡¯d made it alive, and I still had the goddamn demon head.


    I dragged myself onto land, pushing my body out of the water with my bone-weary legs threatening to fail me at any moment. I sucked in breath like air was going out of style, sobbing loudly with every expansion of my chest. Breathing had never hurt so badly, but if I could cry, it meant my lungs were working. I was alive.


    After what felt like hours I forced myself into a sitting position. The New York City skyline winked at me from across the river. Liberty Island was a small silhouette to my left.


    Then I saw the big orange boat, and I don¡¯t think that hideous beast had ever looked so beautiful. The Staten Island Ferry pulled into its dock about a half mile away, unloading one batch of late-night commuters and picking up a group wanting to make the return trip to Manhattan.


    I never in my life thought I¡¯d be so happy to wash up on the shore of Staten Island.


    An hour and twenty minutes later I was grateful for so many more bizarre things. I was thrilled for Manhattan¡¯s popularity as a Hollywood set piece. In any other city people would have run screaming from a sopping wet girl in a party dress carrying a sword with a demon head skewered on it. Instead, I muttered something about a new J.J. Abrams horror movie and the few late-night riders ignored me after that.


    I had no cash to take a cab from the main station and no cell phone to call for a ride, so I hobbled home in my ruined heels. When I made my way through my apartment door, Lucas was administering some first aid to Desmond¡¯s already-healing stab wound, and they¡¯d obviously been talking about me because a hushed silence greeted my entrance. They scrambled to their feet, and Desmond made a move to embrace me, but Lucas held him back.


    ¡°Can someone take the head, please?¡± I asked, my jaw aching with the effort of forming words.


    Lucas was the first to move, but stayed out of my reach as he pulled the head off the end of the sword, almost dropping it when the demon tried to bite him. ¡°What should I¡­? Uh¡­ How do I¡­?¡±


    ¡°Put it in the tub and burn it.¡± I shuffled past him and smiled weakly at Desmond. ¡°Head or heart, right?¡±


    He winced. I must have gotten him pretty good. ¡°Is it really you?¡± he asked cautiously.


    I thought the demon-pop I¡¯d carried in would be a dead giveaway, but I couldn¡¯t blame the guy for asking. I nodded. ¡°Dracula.¡±


    He heaved a relieved sigh and collapsed on the loveseat, resting his head back and looking at the ceiling. I think he was crying.


    I didn¡¯t have the energy left to comfort him.


    By the time Lucas returned from the bathroom, I was already lying horizontally across my bed in the same position I¡¯d landed when I fell onto it. I was still clutching the sword when I passed out, listening to Desmond and Lucas debate how to burn a demon head.


    Chapter Thirty-Seven


    There were a lot of things Mercedes didn¡¯t say to me the night of Gabriel¡¯s funeral. She didn¡¯t ask why I¡¯d paid for it, or where I¡¯d gotten the money. She didn¡¯t ask me to explain how the whole station had lost their collective memories and only she and Tyler could remember the truth. She never said anything about the two officers whose funerals she¡¯d had to attend, whose families believed they¡¯d died in a tragic fire in the basement of the police station.


    Faulty wiring was the official report.


    That report had been drafted by my people.


    Fire was the easiest way to make a mess like that go away. Vampire clean-up crews had been using it as a get-out-of-jail-free card for centuries. Gabriel Holbrook had been another casualty in a terrible tragedy.


    It was easy to paint him as the villain. He was dead, the families of the missing girls had their justice. That was what went into the file so we didn¡¯t have to answer any impossible questions. But Cedes, Tyler and I all knew the truth. Gabriel wasn¡¯t innocent, but he wasn¡¯t the killer.


    As it turned out, Professor Oliver Mayhew had been a real Columbia professor once. Nolan did some research at my request and discovered that Mayhew had originally come to New York in the mid-eighties. I couldn¡¯t be sure when the demon had killed the real Mayhew¡ªit might have been long before¡ªbut now both incarnations were gone.


    Erasing the memory of Mayhew from an entire school would have been too much for even the Tribunal¡¯s resources. Instead I¡¯d had the wardens convince the dean Mayhew had given his notice months earlier so he could return to England as a faculty transfer to Cambridge.


    Lucy Renard had some permanent scars on her feet thanks to the filthy sawdust, but otherwise she had made a miraculous physical recovery thanks to her shifter blood. The memories of the event, however, were still too fresh for her to process properly. It turned out she¡¯d been locked in the dark little room in the basement for days, visited periodically by Mayhew so he could scare the bejeezus out of her, and once so he could bite her. Genevieve told me Lucy couldn¡¯t even look at a closet without screaming.


    I doubted she¡¯d ever be able to cross my path, and it made me sad knowing someone I¡¯d never had a chance to know would be terrified of me for the rest of her life.


    We hadn¡¯t yet been able to figure out what type of demon it had been exactly. Without knowing the specifics, it was hard for us to understand why Mayhew had chosen the girls he had, or what he¡¯d gotten from them. But I¡¯d been thinking about his actions, and of what I¡¯d seen at Calliope¡¯s the night she drank the boy¡¯s aura.


    Calliope fed on life force, and on the goodness of youth. It wasn¡¯t impossible to believe Mayhew had been doing something similar. When he¡¯d stolen my memories, I remembered feeling something escape my body like a breath.


    What if it hadn¡¯t just been my memories, but a part of my soul?


    By taking little bits from many different girls, he could have continued taking only slivers of life essence without actually killing anyone for decades. I¡¯d looked into missing persons and homicide reports in the Columbia campus area dating back to Mayhew¡¯s arrival, but they weren¡¯t as substantial as I¡¯d anticipated. It seemed like Mayhew the demon hadn¡¯t actually started killing his victims until recently. My best guess was he¡¯d gotten more and more desperate lately to return home, and it had made him sloppy. Girls ended up dead, and that was how he¡¯d been found out.


    Who knew how long he could have carried on with his feedings if only he¡¯d left the girls alive? I wasn¡¯t sure what I¡¯d have preferred. Too many lives had been lost in such a short period of time. Was their sacrifice worth it to know a demon was no longer in our midst?


    There was no easy answer.


    Stranger still, I never regained my memory of the missing hour in Mayhew¡¯s office. It still nagged me constantly, the wonder over what had happened and why I¡¯d gotten years¡¯ worth of missing memories back, but not that scant hour.


    Cedes walked with me back to my car, her hand wrapped around the inside of my elbow. Instead of asking me any of the questions that must have nagged at her, she asked me the hardest question of all. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    When I looked at her, I forced a smile and squeezed her hand. ¡°I¡¯m getting there.¡±


    The truth was, I was so far from okay I didn¡¯t know what okay looked like anymore. Both of the officers who¡¯d died in the supposed fire had families. One had just had a new baby a few months earlier. I had read their obituaries about a hundred times.


    And Gabriel¡ªfor all his wrongs¡ªhad just been a stupid young man who¡¯d made a mistake. He¡¯d been taken in by a demon, and though it was his own weakness that had allowed it, it didn¡¯t mean he deserved to die. During the day, when I slept, I was haunted by the sounds of his screams.


    I dropped Mercedes off with the promise we would have a tequila-filled evening very soon. Before I pulled away she made me swear I would talk to Tyler. There was only so much she could explain, and his questions wouldn¡¯t wait as long as hers.


    At home I parked behind Desmond¡¯s car and sat in the warm interior of my BMW for a few quiet minutes.


    Ever since my little swim in the Hudson, I couldn¡¯t seem to get warm enough. Desmond told me I wrapped myself around him while we slept. I lifted my palms from the steering wheel and looked at them. There were no visible burn scars from the sword. When I¡¯d woken the night after my fight with Mayhew, the sword had freed itself from my grip and my hands were healed.


    I¡¯d gone back to Koreatown to talk to the ogre, but the shop was empty. I had to wonder if he¡¯d run because of me and the sword. It certainly cast a dark pall over the future if I could make an ancient fae bolt for the hills without even threatening him.


    Things didn¡¯t get much better when I finally called Grandmere to tell her what had happened and fill her in on my new engagement. When I explained the precarious position of Lucas¡¯s leadership, I hadn¡¯t been able to help asking her about Callum. My grandmere was French, and quiet wasn¡¯t a word I would typically use to describe her. But when I told her Callum was making a play for Lucas¡¯s territory, she had fallen so silent I thought the call had dropped. When she did finally speak, I almost wished she hadn¡¯t.

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    ¡°You stay clear of him, Secret,¡± she had warned. ¡°He¡¯s not your maman, but he is no less dangerous. You tell that man of yours to do whatever it takes to get out of this without Callum getting mad. Promise me.¡±


    Promises were made, but they weren¡¯t mine to keep. Lucas hadn¡¯t heard from Callum since Ben and Amelia had come to the gala, but I didn¡¯t think we¡¯d seen the last of my uncle or his people.


    I sighed and flattened my palms, studying the lines that Calliope told me represented two destinies. Then I balled my hands up into fists. I didn¡¯t know what to believe anymore. I wasn¡¯t sure I believed I had any destiny, let alone two of them.


    Bundling myself in my coat, I finally got out of the car and dashed for my apartment door. Inside, the smell of burnt demon head was still a lingering reminder of what had happened. After the head had been incinerated, I¡¯d poked it once to see if Mayhew would open his eyes again. It had dissolved into black goo, and now I had a permanent ring in my pink bathtub.


    My shoes and coat formed a messy pile in the entrance, but I didn¡¯t bother picking them up. Desmond was sitting on the loveseat, his feet on top of The Sunday Times as he played Assassin¡¯s Creed on the Xbox. Of all the things I¡¯d expected my architect boyfriend to bring with him when he moved in, the Xbox hadn¡¯t been one of them. But as it turned out, all twenty-seven-year-old men have an inner teenager. Even werewolves.


    When I sat next to him, his on-screen persona¡ªaptly also named Desmond¡ªwas busy slitting throats.


    ¡°How was it?¡± he asked, never turning his eyes from the television.


    ¡°It was a funeral.¡± I shrugged. ¡°It was depressing.¡±


    He paused the game and looked at me. ¡°Do you want to talk about it?¡±


    I started to say no but then stopped myself. ¡°Can I be honest?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°I was relieved.¡±


    He arched a brow but didn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°I was relieved because I was going to Gabriel¡¯s funeral, not yours.¡± I rested my head against his shoulder, and he put the controller on the coffee table, before wrapping me in a Desmond-patented hug. Breathing in his scent, tasting the lime on my tongue, I felt safe for the first time in weeks.


    ¡°I thought it might be my funeral trying to get off the damned Empire State Building that night,¡± he said with a laugh, trying to push away the seriousness of the moment.


    I wiped the corners of my eyes with the pad of my thumb. ¡°You never did tell me how you got home.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯ll never tell you.¡± He kissed my forehead. ¡°Let¡¯s just say I owe a security guard named Butch a very big reward and leave it at that.¡±


    I cozied into his side as he picked up the Xbox controller again. When I pointed to the newspaper under his feet, he paused the game a second time.


    ¡°Did you read it?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I glanced.¡±


    ¡°Do you want to talk about it?¡± I issued his own question back to him.


    He shook his head. The official engagement announcement for my wedding to Lucas had been a full-page story in the Times wedding section. They said it was going to be the social event of the decade, or something along those lines. Apparently Sarah Jessica Parker was on the guest list, along with Barbara Walters, Jay-Z and Beyonce. News to me. My guest list was about ten people long.


    Desmond ran his fingers through my hair and pulled my legs onto his lap. ¡°Does it change how you feel about me?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I replied, without hesitation.


    ¡°And we both know it¡¯s good for the pack and will keep your uncle at a distance a little longer.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then it doesn¡¯t matter.¡± His voice sounded strained.


    ¡°Des¡­¡±


    ¡°Who are you with right now?¡± He dipped his head back so he could look me in the eyes. ¡°Who do you come home to every night? It isn¡¯t him. It¡¯s never been him.¡±


    I gave him a weak smile.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what the paper says.¡± He kicked it off the table for emphasis. ¡°I know how you feel. All that matters is you¡¯re alive. And I¡¯ve got you a little longer.¡±


    I draped my arm over his stomach and rested my head on his chest. ¡°You¡¯ve got me forever.¡±


    I could feel his smile against the crown of my head. ¡°Good.¡±


    After a pause, I couldn¡¯t resist my next question any longer. ¡°What did Calliope tell you that night?¡±


    His hand twitched, and the reaction surprised me enough I pulled back and looked at his face, bracing my hand on the arm of the loveseat. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m supposed to say,¡± he admitted.


    ¡°She didn¡¯t say you couldn¡¯t.¡± Now curiosity was overwhelming my more rational characteristics. I had to know.


    ¡°She said I¡¯d be the one standing with you in the end.¡±


    My blood ran cold. What was it Calliope had said to me?


    One day you will die standing by someone you love.