25
   "Did you hear me, ma petite? I could kill your Richard." He pulled the screen back into place. The coffin and its terrible contents gone just like that.
   "You don't want to do that."
   "Oh, but I do, ma petite. I would love to tear out his heart and watch him die." He walked past me. The black shirt fanned around him, exposing his stomach as he moved.
   "I told you, I'm not sure I'm going to marry him. I'm not even sure I'm going to be dating him anymore. Isn't that enough?"
   "No, ma petite. You love him. I can smell his scent on your skin. You have kissed him tonight. With all your doubts, you have held him close."
   "Hurt him and I'll kill you, simple as that." My voice was very matter-of-fact.
   "You would try to kill me, but I am not so easily killed." He sat down on the couch again, shirt spreading out around him, leaving most of his upper body exposed. The cross-shaped burn scar was a shiny imperfection on his flawless skin.
   I stayed standing. He hadn't offered me a seat anyway. "Maybe we'd kill each other. It's your choice of music, Jean-Claude, but once we start this dance, it doesn't stop until one of us is dead."
   "I am not allowed to harm Richard. Is he allowed to harm me?"
   Good question. "I don't think it'll come up."
   "You have dated him for months, and I have said little. Before you marry him, I want equal time."
   I looked at him. "What do you mean, 'equal time'?"
   "Date me, Anita, give me a chance to woo you."
   "Woo me?"
   "Yes," he said.
   I just stared at him. I didn't know what to say. "I've been trying to avoid you for months. I'm not just going to give in now."
   "Then I will start the music, and we will dance. Even if I die, and you die. Richard will die first, that I can promise you. Surely dating me is not a fate worse than that."
   He had a point, and yet . . . "I don't give in to threats."
   "Then I appeal to your sense of fair play, ma petite. You have allowed Richard to win your heart. If you had dated me first, would it be my heart you hold so dear? If you had not fought our mutual attraction, would you even have given Richard a second glance?"
   I couldn't say yes, and be honest. I wasn't sure. I had refused Jean-Claude because he wasn't human. He was a monster and I didn't date monsters. But last night I'd had a glimpse of what Richard might be. I'd felt a power that rivaled Jean-Claude's creep along my skin. It was getting harder to tell the humans from the monsters. I was even beginning to wonder about myself. There are more roads to monsterdom than most people realize.
   "I don't believe in casual sex. I haven't slept with Richard, either."
   "I am not blackmailing you into sex, ma petite. I am trying to get equal time."
   "If I agree, then what?"
   "Why, I pick you up on Friday night."
   "Like a date-date?"
   He nodded. "We might even discover how you are meeting my eyes with impunity."
   "Let's just stick to as normal a date as we can."
   "As you like."
   I stared at him. He looked at me. He would pick me up on Friday. We had a date. I wondered how Richard would feel about that.
   "I can't date both of you indefinitely."
   "Allow me a few months, as you have given Richard. If I cannot win you from him, then I will retire from the field."
   "You'll leave me alone and you won't harm Richard?"
   He nodded.
   "You give me your word?"
   "My word of honor."
   I took it. It was the best offer I was going to get. I wasn't sure how much his word of honor was worth, but it gave us time. Time to work something else out. I didn't know what else, but there had to be something. Something besides dating the freaking Master of the City.

26
   There was a knock on the door. It opened without Jean-Claude's giving permission. Somebody was pushy. Raina stalked in through the door. Pushy was one word for it.
   She was wearing a rust-collared trench coat with the belt tied very tight at her waist. The buckle flopped loosely as she glided into the room. She undid a multicolored scarf and shook her auburn hair. It shimmered in the light.
   Gabriel followed at her back in a black trench coat. His-and-her outfits. His hair and strange grey eyes looked as good with his coat as Raina's did with hers. Earrings glittered from the earlobe to the curl at the top of his ear. Every piece of metal was silver.
   Kaspar Gunderson followed at their heels. He was wearing a pale tweed coat and one of those hats with a little feather in the band. He looked like an elegant version of everybody's 1950s dream dad. He didn't look happy to be here.
   Robert stood sort of hovering in the doorway. "I told them you were busy, Jean-Claude. I told them you didn't want to be disturbed." He was practically wringing his hands with anxiety. After what I'd seen done to Gretchen I didn't blame him for being afraid.
   "Come in, Robert, and close the door behind you," Jean-Claude said.
   "I really need to oversee the next act. I . . ."
   "Come in and close the door, Robert."
   The century-old vampire did as he was told. He closed the door and leaned against it, one hand on the doorknob as if that would keep him safe. The right sleeve of his white shirt was sliced up, and blood trickled out of fresh claw marks. His throat showed more blood, as if a clawed hand had lifted him by the throat. Like Jean-Claude had done to Gretchen, but with talons.
   "I told you what would happen if you failed me again, Robert. In anything, large or small." Jean-Claude's voice was a whisper that filled the room like wind.
   Robert dropped to his knees on the white carpet. "Please, master, please." He extended his hands towards Jean-Claude. A thick drop of blood plopped from his arm to the carpet. The blood seemed very red against the white, white carpet.
   Raina smiled. I was betting I knew whose claw marks Robert was sporting. Kaspar went to sit on the couch, distancing himself from the show. Gabriel was looking at me. "Nice coat," he said.
   We were both wearing black trench coats. Great. "Thanks," I said.
   He grinned flashing, pointy teeth.
   I wanted to ask him if the silver earrings hurt but Robert made a low whimpering noise, and I turned back to the main show.
   "Come to me, Robert." Jean-Claude's voice had heat to it, enough to scald.
   Robert went nearly prone on the carpet, abasing himself. "Please, master. Please don't."
   Jean-Claude stalked towards him, fast enough to have his black shirt sweeping behind him like a miniature cape. His pale skin flashed against the black cloth. He stopped beside the cowering vampire. Jean-Claude's shirt swirled around the suddenly quiet body. Jean-Claude stood utterly still. The cloth had more life to it than he did.
   Jesus. "He tried, Jean-Claude," I said. "Leave him alone."
   Jean-Claude stared at me, his eyes a bottomless blue. I looked away from those eyes. Maybe I could meet his gaze with impunity, but then again . . . He was always full of surprises.
   "I was under the impression, ma petite, that you did not like Robert."
   "I don't, but I've seen enough punishment for one night. They bloodied him just because he wouldn't let them in your office a few minutes early. Why aren't you mad about that?"
   Raina walked over to Jean-Claude. The spiked heels of her metallic copper pumps made indents in the carpet. A trail of stab wounds.
   Jean-Claude watched her come. His face was neutral but there was something about the way he held himself. Was he afraid of her? Maybe. But there was a wariness to his body as she moved closer. He wasn't happy. More and more curious.
   "We had an appointment with Jean-Claude. It would have hurt my feelings to be turned away at the door." She stepped over Robert, flashing a lot of leg. I wasn't sure she was wearing anything under the trench coat. Robert did not try to sneak a peek. He froze, flinching as her coat brushed his back.
   Raina stood with her shapely calves, nearly touching Robert. He didn't move away from her. He seemed to just freeze as if he could pretend he wasn't there and everyone would forget about him. He wished.
   She was standing so close to Jean-Claude that the length of their bodies touched. She was sort of wedged between the two vampires. I expected Jean-Claude to step back, give her a little room. He didn't.
   She ran her fingers under his shirt, laying her hands on either side of his naked waist. Her lipsticked mouth parted and she leaned into him. She kissed him, and he stood like a statue under her hands. But he didn't tell her to go to hell.
   What the hell was going on?
   Raina raised her face enough to speak. "Jean-Claude doesn't wish to offend Marcus. He needs the pack's backing to hold the city. Don't you, love?"
   He put his hands on her slender waist and stepped back. Her hands trailed along his skin until he was completely out of reach. She watched him the way snakes watch small birds. Hungry. You didn't have to be a vampire to feel her lust. Obvious was putting it kindly.
   "Marcus and I have an arrangement," Jean-Claude said.
   "What sort of arrangement?" I asked.
   "Why do you care, ma petite? You are going to be seeing Monsieur Zeeman. Am I not allowed to see other people? I have offered you monogamy and you have turned me down."
   I hadn't thought about it. It did bother me. Damn. "It's not the sharing that bothers me, Jean-Claude."
   Raina walked up behind him, long painted nails tracing his skin. Hands curling up his chest until her chin rested on his shoulder. Jean-Claude relaxed in her arms this time. He leaned his back against her, pale hands caressing her arms. He stared at me while he did it.
   "What does bother you, ma petite?"
   "Your choice of playmates."
   "Jealous?" Raina asked.
   "No."
   "Liar," she said.
   What was I supposed to say? That it bothered me to see her hanging all over him? It did. Which bothered me more than her groping him.
   I shook my head. "Just wondering how far you'll go to secure the pack's favor."
   "Oh, all the way," Raina said. She moved around to stand in front of him. She was taller than he was in her heels. "You are going to come play with me." She kissed him, one quick movement. She dropped to her knees in front of him, gazing upward.
   Jean-Claude stroked her hair. His pale graceful hands raising her face upward. He bent towards her as if to kiss her, but he stared at me while he did it.
   Was he waiting for me to say, no, don't? He'd seemed almost afraid of her at first. Now he was utterly comfortable. I knew he was taunting me. Trying to make me jealous. It was sort of working.
   He kissed her long and lingering. He looked up from it with her lipstick smeared on his lips. "What are you thinking, ma petite?"
   He couldn't read my mind anymore, one point for not having vampire marks. "That I think less of you for having sex with Raina."
   Gabriel gave a warm, rolling laugh. "Oh, he hasn't had sex with her, not yet." He walked towards me in a long, gliding stride.
   I flashed the trench coat showing the Browning. "Let's not get crazed."
   He undid the trench coat's belt, and raised his hands in surrender. He wasn't wearing a shirt. He had a silver ring through his left nipple, and the edge of his belly button.
   It made me wince just to see it. "I thought silver hurt a lycanthrope, like an allergy."
   "It burns," he said. His voice had a soft huskiness to it.
   "And this is a good thing?" I asked.
   Gabriel put his hands down slowly and shrugged the coat off his shoulders. He turned slowly as the cloth fell like a striptease. I didn't see any other silver rings. He whirled as it came off his arms, and at the apex of the turn he flung it on me. I batted at the coat, knocking it away from me. That was the mistake.
   He was on me, body flattening me to the floor. My arms ended up pinned to my chest, trapped under his coat. His waist had the Firestar trapped. I went for the Browning and his hand tore through the coat like paper, ripped the gun out from under my arm. He damn near took the holster and my arm with it. For a second my left arm was just one raw pain. When I could feel my arm again the Browning was gone and I was staring up into Gabriel's face from three inches away.
   He wriggled his hips, grinding the Firestar into both of us. It had to hurt him more than it hurt me.
   "Doesn't that hurt?" I asked. My voice was surprisingly calm.
   "I like pain," he said. He put the tip of his tongue on my chin and licked across my mouth. He laughed. "Struggle harder. Push those little hands."
   "You like pain?" I said.
   "Yeah."
   "You're gonna love this." I shoved the knife into his upper stomach. He gave a small sound between a grunt and a sigh. A shudder ran the length of his body. He reared up over me, still pinning me from the waist down, like he was doing girl's push-ups.
   I raised myself up with him, shoving the knife in deeper, drawing the blade upward through the meat of his body.
   Gabriel ripped the coat into pieces but didn't try to grab the knife. He braced an arm on either side of me, staring downward at the knife and my bloody hands.
   He rested his face in my hair, slumping just a little. I thought he'd pass out. He whispered, "Deeper."
   "Oh, Jesus." The blade was almost at the bottom of his sternum. When I got to it one upward thrust would give me his heart.
   I lay back on the floor to get a better angle for the killing blow.
   "Don't kill him," Raina said. "We need him."
   We? The knife was on its way to his heart when he rolled off me in a blinding blur of speed. He ended up lying on his back not too far away. He was breathing very fast, his chest rising and falling. Blood poured down his naked skin. His eyes were closed, lips curled in a half smile.
   If he'd been human he might have died later tonight. Instead he lay on the carpet smiling. He rolled his head to one side and opened his eyes. His strange grey eyes looked at me. "That was wonderful."
   "Jesus H. Christ," I said. I got to my feet using the couch for support. I was covered in Gabriel's blood. The knife was thick with it.
   Kaspar was sitting on the corner of the couch staring at me. He huddled in his coat, eyes wide. I didn't blame him.
   I wiped my hands and blade on the black couch. "Thanks for the help, Jean-Claude."
   "I was told that you are a dominant now, ma petite. Struggles of internal dominance are not to be interfered with." He smiled. "Besides, you did not need my help."
   Raina knelt beside Gabriel. She lowered her face to his bleeding stomach and began to lick it. Long, slow movements of her tongue. Her throat convulsed as she swallowed.
   I would not be sick. I would not be sick. I looked at Kaspar. "What are you doing with these two?"
   Raina raised a blood coated face. "Kaspar is our sample."
   "What's that supposed to mean?"
   "He can shapeshift back and forth as often as he wants to. He doesn't pass out. We use him to test potential stars of our movie productions. To see how they react to somebody changing shape in the middle of things."
   I was going to be sick. "Please tell me you don't mean he changes in the middle of sex as a sort of screen test."
   Raina cocked her head to one side. Her tongue rolled around her mouth, licking the blood clean. "You know about our little films?"
   "Yeah."
   "I'm surprised Richard told you. He doesn't approve of our fun."
   "Are you in the movies?"
   "Kaspar won't play on film," Raina said. She stood up and walked towards the couch. "Marcus won't force anybody to be on film. But Kaspar helps us audition people. Don't you, Kaspar?"
   He nodded. He was staring at the carpet, working very hard at not looking at her.
   "Why are you all here tonight?" I asked.
   "Jean-Claude promised us some vampires for our next movie."
   "That true?" I asked.
   Jean-Claude's face was blank, lovely but unreadable. "Robert needs to be punished."
   I frowned at the change of subject. "The coffin's full."
   "There are always more coffins, Anita."
   Robert crawled forward. "I'm sorry, master. I'm sorry." He didn't touch Jean-Claude, but he crept close to him. "I can't bear the box again, master. Please."
   "You're afraid of Raina, Jean-Claude. What do you expect Robert to do with her?"
   "I am not afraid of Raina."
   "Fine, but Robert was overmatched. You know he was."
   "Perhaps you are right, ma petite."
   Robert looked up. A moment of hope flashed across his handsome face. "Thank you, master." He looked at me. "Thank you, Anita."
   I shrugged.
   "You can have Robert for your next film," Jean-Claude said.
   Robert grabbed his leg. "Master, I . . ."
   "Oh, come on, Jean-Claude, don't give him to her."
   Raina plopped down on the couch between Kaspar and me. I stood up. She put an arm over Kaspar's shoulders. He flinched.
   "He's handsome enough. Any vampire can take a great deal of punishment. Most acceptable," she said.
   "You saw them here tonight," I said. "Do you really want to do that to one of your own people?"
   "Let Robert decide," Jean-Claude said. "The box, or Raina?"
   Robert looked up at the lycanthrope. She smiled at him with her bloody mouth.
   Robert lowered his head so he could see her, then nodded. "Not the box. Anything is better than that."
   "I'm out of here," I said. I'd had all the interpreternatural politics that I could stand for one night.
   "Don't you want to see the show?" Raina said.
   "I thought I'd seen the show," I said.
   She tossed Kaspar's hat across the room. "Strip," she said.
   I'd sheathed the knife and retrieved the Browning from the carpet where Gabriel had thrown it. I was armed. For what good it did me.
   Kaspar sat there on the couch. There was a pink flush to his white skin. His eyes glittered. Angry, embarrassed. "I was a prince before your ancestors discovered this country."
   Raina propped her chin on his shoulder, still hugging his shoulders. "We know how blue your pedigree is. You were a prince and you were such a big, bad hunter, such a wicked boy that a witch cursed you. She turned you into something beautiful and harmless. She hoped you'd learn how to be gentle and kind." She licked his ear, running her hands through his feathery hair. "But you aren't gentle or kind. Your heart is just as cold and your pride just as impervious as it was centuries ago. Now, take off your clothes and turn into a swan for us."
   "You don't need me to do it for the vampire," he said.
   "No, do it for me. Do it so Anita can see. Do it so Gabriel and I don't hurt you." Her voice was going lower. Each word more measured.
   "You can't kill me, not even with silver," he said.
   "But we can make you wish you could die, Kaspar."
   He screamed, a low, ragged cry of frustration. He stood up abruptly and pulled on his coat. The buttons snapped and fell to the carpet. He flung the coat into Raina's face.
   She laughed.
   I started for the door.
   "Oh, don't leave yet, Anita. Kaspar may be a pain in the ass, but he's really quite beautiful."
   I glanced back.
   Kaspar's sport jacket and tie lay on the carpet. He unbuttoned his white dress shirt with quick, angry movements. There was a line of white feathers down the middle of his chest. Soft and downy as an Easter duck.
   I shook my head and kept going for the door. I did not run. I did not walk faster than normal. It was the bravest thing I'd done all night.
   
   

27
   I took a taxi home. Stephen stayed behind to strip or just to lick Jean-Claude's boots, I wasn't sure which and I wasn't sure I cared. I'd made sure Stephen wasn't in trouble. It was the best I could do. He was Jean-Claude's creature, and I'd had about enough of the Master of the City for one night.
   Killing Gretchen was one thing, tormenting her was another. I kept flashing on the sound of her frantically beating hands. I'd like to believe that Jean-Claude would keep her asleep, but I knew better. He was a master vampire. They ruled, in part, through fear. Gretchen seemed like a real good threat. Displease me and I'll do that to you. Worked for me.
   I was standing outside my apartment when I realized I didn't have a key to it. I'd given Richard my car keys, which had my house keys on the ring.
   It felt silly standing out in the hallway about to knock on my own front door. The door opened without me touching it. Richard stood in the doorway. He smiled. "Hi," he said.
   I found myself smiling back. "Hi, yourself."
   He stepped back to one side, giving me room. He hadn't tried to kiss me in the door like Ozzie meeting Harriet after work. I was glad. It was too intimate a ritual. If we ever did this for real, he could molest me at the door, but not tonight.
   He closed the door behind me, and I half expected him to take my coat. Wisely, he did not.
   I took off my own coat and laid it across the couch, where all good coats go. The warm smell of cooking food filled the apartment. "You've been cooking," I said, not entirely pleased.
   "I thought you might be hungry. Besides, all I had to do was wait. I cooked. It filled the time."
   I could understand that. Though cooking would never have occurred to me unless forced.
   The only lights were in the kitchen. It looked like a lighted cave from the darkened living room. If I wasn't mistaken, there were candles on the table.
   "Are those candles?"
   He laughed. It had an embarrassed edge to it. "Too hokey?"
   "It's a two-seater breakfast table. You can't possibly serve a fancy dinner on it."
   "I thought we'd use the divider as a buffet and just have plates on the table. There's room if we're careful where we put our elbows." He walked past me into the light. He started puttering with a saucepan, sloshing something around in it.
   I stood there staring at my kitchen, watching my possible fiance cooking my dinner. My skin felt tight and itchy. I couldn't draw a complete breath. I wanted to go right back out the door. This was more intimate than a kiss at the door. He'd moved in, made himself at home.
   I didn't leave. It was the bravest thing I'd done all night. I checked the lock on the door automatically. He'd left it unlocked. Careless.
   I didn't know what to do next. My apartment was my refuge. I could come here and just kick back. I could be alone. I liked being alone. I needed some time to unwind, regroup, think how to tell him Jean-Claude and I had a date.
   "Will dinner be spoiled if I clean up first?"
   "I can reheat everything when you're ready. I planned the meal so it wouldn't ruin no matter how late you were."
   Great. "I'm going to go clean up then."
   He turned to me, framed by the light. He'd tied his hair back, but it was coming loose in long, curling strands. His sweater was a burnt orange that made his skin look golden highlighted. He was wearing an apron that said, Mrs. Lovett's Meatpies on it. I didn't own an apron, and I certainly wouldn't have chosen one with a logo from Sweeney Todd. A musical about cannibalism seemed inappropriate for an apron. Delightfully so, but still . . .
   "I'm going to go clean up."
   "You said that."
   I turned on my heel and walked to the bedroom. I did not run, though the temptation was great. I closed the door to my bedroom and leaned against it. My bedroom was untouched. No signs of invasion.
   There was a love seat under the room's only window. Stuffed toy penguins sit on the love seat and spill down onto the floor. The collection was threatening to take over half the floor like a creeping tide. I grabbed the nearest one and sat on the corner of the bed. I hugged it tight, burying the upper half of my face in its fuzzy head.
   I'd said I would marry Richard, so why was I so bugged about his sudden domestic turn? We downgraded the yes to a maybe, but even if it had still been a yes it would have bugged me. Marriage. The implications of that hadn't really sunk in. It wasn't fair to ask questions like that when he was half-naked and looking yummy. If he'd dropped to one knee over a fancy restaurant dinner, would my answer have been different? Maybe. But we'd never know, would we?
   If I'd been alone, I wouldn't have eaten at all. I'd have taken a shower, thrown on an oversize T-shirt, and gone to bed surrounded by a few select penguins.
   Now I had a fancy dinner to eat, by candlelight nonetheless. If I said I wasn't hungry, would he be insulted? Would he pout? Would he yell about all the work going to waste and tell me about starving kids in Southeast Asia?
   "Shit," I said softly and with feeling. Well, hell, if we ever were going to cohabitate, he'd have to know the truth. I was unsociable, and food was something you ate so you wouldn't die.
   I decided to do what I'd have done if he hadn't been here, sort of. I really disliked feeling uncomfortable in my own home. If I'd known it was going to feel like this, I'd have called Ronnie to wake me every hour. I was fine. I didn't need the help, but Ronnie would have been more comfy, less threatening. Of course, if Gretchen got out of her box, I trusted Richard would survive an attack, but wasn't so sure about Ronnie. One good point in Richard's favor. He was damn hard to kill.
   I put the Browning in the holster built into the bed. I stripped off the sweater and let it fall to the floor. It was ruined and sweaters didn't wrinkle anyway. I laid the Firestar on the back of the toilet. Then I stripped off and got in the shower. I didn't lock the bedroom door. It would seem insulting, as if, if I didn't lock the door, he'd be naked in the bed with a rose in his teeth when I came out.
   I locked the bathroom door. I'd done it when I was home with my father. Now I did it so if someone busted down the door, I'd have time to grab the Firestar off the toilet.
   I turned the shower on as hot as it would go and stayed under it until my fingers started to prune. I was scrubbed clean and had delayed as long as I could.
   I wiped the steam from the mirror with a towel. The top layer of skin was gone from my right cheek. It would heal just fine, but a scrape looks like hell until it heals. There was a small scrape on my chin and the side of my nose. A knot was blossoming into brilliant color on my forehead. I looked as though I'd been hit by a train. It was amazing that anyone wanted to kiss me.
   I peeked out the door into the bedroom. No one was waiting for me. The room was empty and full of the whir of the heater. It was quiet, peaceful, and I couldn't hear any noises from the kitchen. I let out a long sigh. Alone, for a little while.
   I was vain enough that I didn't want Richard to see me in my usual nighttime attire. I had had a nice black robe that matched a tiny black teddy. An overly optimistic date had given it to me. He never got to see me wear it. Fancy that. The robe had died a sad death covered in blood and other bodily fluids.
   Wearing the teddy seemed cruel since I didn't plan on having sex with him. I stood in front of my closet and didn't have a thing to wear. Since I consider clothes something you wear so you won't be naked, that was pretty sad.
   I put on an oversize T-shirt with a caricature of Mary Shelley on it, a pair of grey sweatpants—not the fancy ones, either, the kind with a drawstring in them. The way God intended sweatpants to be. A pair of white jogging socks, the closest thing I owned to slippers, and I was ready to go.
   I looked at myself in the mirror and wasn't happy. I was comfortable, but it wasn't very flattering. But it was honest. I've never understood those women who wear makeup, do their hair, and dress wonderfully until after they're married. Suddenly, they forget what makeup is and lose all their thin clothes. If we did marry, he should see what he'd be sleeping beside every night. I shrugged and walked out.
   He'd combed his hair out. It foamed around his face, soft and inviting. The candles were gone. So was the apron. He stood in the entryway between kitchen and living room. His arms were crossed over his chest, shoulder leaning against the doorjamb. He smiled. He looked so scrumptious, I wanted to go back in and change, but I didn't.
   "I'm sorry," he said.
   "What about?"
   "I'm not completely sure, but I think for presuming I could take over your kitchen."
   "I think it's the first meal that's ever been cooked in it."
   His smile widened, and he pushed away from the door. He walked towards me. He moved in the circle of his own energy. Not that otherworldly power, but just Richard. Or was it? Maybe a lot of his drive was from his beast.
   He stood staring down at me, close enough to touch but not doing it. "I was going crazy waiting for you. I got this idea to cook a fancy meal. It was stupid. You don't have to eat it, but it kept me from running down to Guilty Pleasures and defending your honor."
   It made me smile. "Damn you, I can't even pout around you. You always jolly me out of it."
   "And this is a bad thing?"
   I laughed. "Yes. I enjoy my bad moods, thank you very much."
   He traced fingers down my shoulders, kneading the muscles in my upper arms. I pulled away from him. "Please, don't." Just like that, the cozy domestic scene was ruined. All my fault.
   His hands dropped to his sides. "I'm sorry." I didn't think he meant the meal. He took a deep breath and nodded. "You don't have to eat a bite." I guess we were going to pretend he had meant the meal. Fine with me.
   "If I said I wasn't hungry at all, you wouldn't be mad at me?"
   "I fixed the meal to make me feel better. If it bothers you, don't eat it."
   "I'll drink a cup of coffee and watch you eat."
   He smiled. "It's a deal."
   He stayed standing, looking down at me. He looked sad. Lost. If you love someone, you shouldn't make them miserable. It's a rule somewhere, or should be.
   "You combed your hair out."
   "You like it loose."
   "Just like this is one of my favorite sweaters," I said.
   "Is it?" His voice held a teasing edge to it. I could have the lightness back. We could have a nice relaxing evening. It was up to me.
   I looked up into his big brown eyes and wanted it. But I couldn't lie to him. That would be worse than cruel. "This is awkward."
   "I know. I'm sorry."
   "Stop apologizing. It's not your fault. It's mine."
   He shook his head. "You can't help how you feel."
   "My first instinct is to cut and run, Richard. Stop seeing you. No more long conversations. No touching. Nothing."
   "If that's what you want." His voice sounded sort of strangled, as if it cost him dearly to say those words.
   "What I want is you. I just don't know if I can handle all of you."
   "I shouldn't have proposed until you'd seen what I really was."
   "I saw Marcus and the gang."
   "It's not the same as seeing me go beastly on you, is it?"
   I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "No," I said, "it isn't."
   "If you have someone else you can call to wait with you tonight, I'll go. You said you needed time and I practically move in. I'm pushing."
   "Yeah, you are."
   "I'm scared that I'm losing you," he said.
   "Pushing won't help," I said.
   "I guess not."
   I stood there staring at him. The apartment was dark. The only light from the kitchen. It could have been, should have been, very intimate. I told everybody that lycanthropy was just a disease. It was illegal and immoral to discriminate. I didn't have a prejudiced bone in my body, or so I told myself. Staring up into Richard's handsome face, I knew it wasn't true. I was prejudiced. I was prejudiced against monsters. Oh, they were good enough to be my friends, but even my closest friends, Ronnie and Catherine, were human. Good enough to be friends, but not good enough to love. Not good enough to share my bed. Is that really what I thought? Was that who I was?
   It wasn't who I wanted to be. I raised zombies and slew vampires. I wasn't clean enough to throw stones.
   I moved closer to him. "Hold me, Richard. Just hold me."
   His arms enfolded me. I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my face against his chest. I could hear his heartbeat, fast and strong. I held him, listening to the beat of his heart, breathing his warmth. For just an instant I felt safe. It was the way I'd felt before my mother died. That childish belief that nothing can hurt you while Mommy and Daddy hold you tight. That utter faith that they can make everything all right. In Richard's arms, for brief moments, I had that again. Even though I knew it was a lie. Hell, it had been a lie the first time. My mother's death had proven that.
   I pulled away first. He didn't try and hold on. He didn't say anything. If he'd said anything remotely sympathetic I might have cried. Couldn't have that. Down to business. "You haven't asked how it went with Jean-Claude."
   "You were almost mad at me when you came through the door. I thought if I started questioning you right off the bat, you might yell at me."
   He'd made coffee all on his own. That earned him at least two brownie points. "I wasn't mad at you." I poured coffee into my baby penguin mug. Regardless of what I take to work, it is my favorite mug.
   "Yes, you were," he said.
   "You want some coffee?"
   "You know I don't like it."
   How do you trust a man that doesn't like coffee? "I keep hoping you'll come to your senses."
   He started dishing out his meal. "Sure you don't want some?"
   "No, thanks." It was some small brown meat in a brown sauce. Looking at it made me nauseous. I'd eaten later than this with Edward, but tonight, food just didn't sound good. Maybe getting my head bashed into concrete had something to do with that.
   I sat down in one of the chairs, one knee drawn up to my chest. The coffee was Viennese cinnamon, one of my favorites. Sugar, real cream, and it was perfect.
   Richard sat down opposite me. He bowed his head and said grace over his meal. He's Episcopalian, did I mention that? Except for the furry part, he really is perfect for me.
   "Tell me what happened with Jean-Claude, please," he asked.
   I sipped my coffee and tried to think of a short version. Okay, a short version Richard wouldn't mind hearing. Okay, maybe just the truth.
   "He took the news better than I thought he would, actually."
   Richard looked up from his meal, silverware poised. "He took it well?"
   "I didn't say that. He didn't burst through a wall and try to kill you immediately. He took it better than I expected."
   Richard nodded. He took a sip of water and said, "Did he threaten to kill me?"
   "Oh, yeah. But it was almost like he saw this coming. He didn't like it, but it didn't catch him by complete surprise."
   "Is he going to try and kill me?" He asked it very calmly, eating his meat and brown sauce.
   "No, he isn't."
   "Why not?"
   It was a good question. I wondered what he'd think of the answer. "He wants to date me."
   Richard stopped eating. He just looked at me. When he could speak, he said, "He what?"
   "He wants a chance to woo me. He says that if he can't win me from you in a few months, he'll give up. He'll let us go our merry way, and he won't interfere."
   Richard sat back in his chair. "And you believe him?"
   "Yeah. Jean-Claude thinks he's irresistible. I think he believes that if I let him use all his charms on me, I'll reconsider."
   "Will you?" His voice was very quiet when he asked.
   "No, I don't think so." It wasn't a rousing endorsement.
   "I know you lust after him, Anita. Do you love him?"
   The conversation was becoming deja-vuish. "In some dark, twisted part of my heart, yeah. But not the way I love you."
   "How is it different?"
   "Look, I just had this conversation with Jean-Claude. I love you. Can you see me setting up house with the Master of the City?"
   "Can you see setting up house with an alpha werewolf?"
   Shit. I stared across the table at him, and sighed. He was pushing, but I didn't blame him. If I'd been him, I'd have dumped me. If I didn't love him enough to accept all of him, then who the hell needed me? I didn't want him to dump me. I wanted to be indecisive but I didn't want to lose him. Talk about having your cake and eating it, too.
   I leaned across the table and held my hand out to him. After a moment he took it. "I don't want to lose you."
   "You won't lose me."
   "You are a hell of a lot more tolerant than I would be."
   He didn't smile. "I know I am."
   I would have liked to argue, but truth is truth. "I'd be bigger about this if I could."
   "I understand your having reservations about marrying a werewolf. Who wouldn't? But Jean-Claude . . ." He shook his head.
   I squeezed his hand. "Come on, Richard. This is the best we can do right now. Jean-Claude won't try and kill either of us. We still get to date and see each other."
   "I don't like you being forced into dating him." He rubbed his fingers across my knuckles, caressing. "I like it even less that I think you'll enjoy it. In that small dark part of yourself, you'll be having a very good time."
   I wanted to deny it, but it would be a total lie. "You can smell it if I lie?"
   "Yep," he said.
   "Then it's intriguing and terrifying."
   "I want you safe so the terrifying part bothers me, but the intriguing part bothers me more."
   "Jealous?"
   "Worried."
   What could I say? So was I.
   
   

28
   The phone rang. I groped for it and found nothing. I raised my head and found the nightstand empty. The phone was gone. It had even stopped ringing. The radio clock was still there, glowing red. It read 1:03. I stayed propped on my elbow blinking at the empty space. Was I dreaming? Why would I dream that someone had stolen my phone?
   The bedroom door opened. Richard stood framed in the light beyond. Ah. Now I remembered. He'd taken the phone into the living room so it wouldn't wake me. Since he was having to wake me every hour, I'd let him do it. When you're only sleeping an hour, even a short phone call can screw things up.
   "Who is it?"
   "It's Sergeant Rudolf Storr. I asked him to wait until I had to wake you, but he was pretty insistent."
   I could imagine. "It's all right."
   "Would fifteen minutes have killed him?" Richard asked.
   I swung my legs out from under the covers. "Dolph's in the middle of a murder investigation, Richard. Patience isn't his strong suit."
   Richard crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the doorjamb. The light from the living room made strong shadows on his face. The shadows cut huge square shapes on his orange sweater. He radiated displeasure. It made me smile. I patted his arm as I went past. I seemed to have inherited a watchwolf.
   The phone was sitting just inside the front door, where the other phone jack was. I sat down on the floor, putting my back to the wall, and picked up the phone. "Dolph, it's me. What's up?"
   "Who's this Richard Zeeman that's answering your phone in the middle of the night?"
   I closed my eyes. My head hurt. My face hurt. I hadn't had a hell of a lot of sleep. "You're not my father, Dolph. What's up?"
   A moment of silence. "Defensive, aren't we?"
   "Yeah, want to make something of it?"
   "No," he said.
   "You call just to catch up on my personal life or is there a reason you woke me up?" I knew it wasn't another murder. He was being too cheerful for that, which made me wonder if it couldn't have waited a few hours.
   "We found something."
   "What exactly?"
   "I'd rather you just come and see it for yourself."
   "Don't do this to me, Dolph. Just tell me what the fuck it is."
   Another silence. If he was waiting for me to apologize, he was in for a long wait. Finally. "We found a skin."
   "What kind of skin?"
   "If we knew what the hell it was, would I be calling you at one o'clock in the freaking morning?" He sounded angry. I guess I couldn't blame him.
   "I'm sorry, Dolph. I'm sorry I snapped at you."
   "Fine."
   He hadn't exactly accepted my apology. Fine. "Is it connected to the murder?"
   "I don't think so, but I'm not some hotshot preternatural expert." He still sounded pissed. Maybe he wasn't getting much sleep, either. Of course, I bet no one had smashed his head into a sidewalk.
   "Where are you?"
   He gave me the address. It was down in Jefferson County, far away from the murder scene.
   "When can you be here?"
   "I can't drive," I said.
   "What?"
   "Doctor's orders, I'm not to get behind the wheel of a car tonight."
   "How bad are you hurt?"
   "Not too bad, but the doctor wanted me woken up every hour, and no driving."
   "That's why Mr. Zeeman is there."
   "Yeah."
   "If you're too hurt to come tonight, it can wait."
   "Is the skin where it was found? Nothing disturbed?"
   "Yeah."
   "I'll come. Who knows? There might be a clue."
   He let that go. "How are you going to get here?"
   I glanced at Richard. He could drive me, but somehow I didn't think it was a good idea. He was a civvie, for one thing. He was a lycanthrope, for another. He answered to Marcus, and to a degree to Jean-Claude. Not a good person to bring into a preternatural murder investigation. Besides, if he'd been human, the answer would have been the same. No deal.
   "Unless you can send a squad car, I guess I'll take a taxi."
   "Zerbrowski didn't answer his first page. He lives in St. Peters. He'll have to come right by you. He can pick you up."
   "Is that okay with him?"
   "It will be," Dolph said.
   Great. Trapped in a car with Zerbrowski. "Fine, I'll be dressed and waiting."
   "Dressed?"
   "Don't even start, Dolph."
   "Touchy, very touchy."
   "Stop it."
   He laughed. It was good to hear him laugh. It meant not many people had died this time. Dolph didn't laugh much during serial-killer cases.
   He hung up. So did I.
   "You have to go out?" Richard asked.
   "Yeah."
   "Do you feel well enough to go?"
   "Yes."
   "Anita . . ."
   I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes. "Don't, Richard. I'm going."
   "No debate allowed?"
   "No debate," I said. I opened my eyes and looked at him.
   He was staring down at me, arms crossed.
   "What?" I said.
   He shook his head. "If I told you that I was going to do something, no debate, you'd be mad."
   "No, I wouldn't."
   "Anita." He said my name the way my father use to say it.
   "I wouldn't, not if your reasons were valid."
   "Anita, you'd be pissed, and you know it."
   I wanted to deny it but couldn't. "All right, you're right. I wouldn't like it." I stared up at him. I was going to have to give him reasons why I was going to go out and do my job. It wasn't a pretty sight.
   I stood. I wanted to say I didn't have to explain myself to anyone, but if I meant this marriage thing, it wasn't true anymore. I didn't like that much. His being a werewolf was not the only hurdle to domestic bliss.
   "This is police business, Richard. People die when I don't do my job."
   "I thought your job was raising zombies and executing vampires."
   "You sound like Bert."
   "You've told me enough about Bert that I know that is an insult."
   "If you don't want to be compared, then stop saying one of his favorite things." I walked past him towards the bedroom. "I've got to get dressed."
   He followed me. "I know that helping the police is very important to you."
   I turned on him. "I don't just help the police, Richard. The spook squad is just over two years old. The cops on it didn't know shit about preternatural creatures. It was a garbage detail. Do something to piss off your superiors and you get transferred."
   "The newspapers and TV said it was an independent task force like the major task force. That's an honor."
   "Oh, yeah, right. The squad gets almost no extra funding. No special training in preternatural creatures or events. Dolph, Sergeant Storr, saw me in the paper and contacted Bert. There was no training in preternatural crime for law officers in this country. Dolph thought I could be an adviser."
   "You're a heck of a lot more than an adviser."
   "Yes, I am." I could have told him that earlier in the summer Dolph had tried not calling me in right away. It had seemed like a clear-cut case of ghouls in a cemetery getting a little ambitious and attacking a necking couple. Ghouls were cowards and didn't attack able-bodied people, but exceptions to the rule and all that. By the time Dolph called me in, six people were dead. It hadn't been ghouls. So lately Dolph had started calling me at the beginning before things got too messy. Sometimes I could diagnose a problem before it got out of hand.
   But I couldn't tell Richard that. There might have been a lower kill count if I'd been called in this summer, but that was no one's business but Dolph's and mine. We'd spoken of it only once, and that was enough. Richard was a civvie, werewolf or not. It wasn't any of his business.
   "Look, I don't know if I can explain this so you'll understand, but I have to go. It may head off a larger problem. It may keep me from having to go to a murder scene later on. Can you understand that?"
   He looked perplexed, but what came out of his mouth wasn't. "Not really, but maybe I don't have to. Maybe seeing it's important to you is enough."
   I let out a deep breath. "Great. Now I've got to get ready. Zerbrowski will be here any time. He's the detective giving me a ride."
   Richard just nodded. Wise of him.
   I went into the bedroom and closed the door. Gratefully. Would this be a regular occurrence if we married? Would I be forever explaining myself? God, I hoped not.
   Another pair of black jeans, a red sweater with a cowl neck, so soft and fuzzy that it made me feel better just to wear it. The Browning's shoulder holster looked very dark and dramatic against the crimson of the sweater. The red sweater also brought out the raw-meat color of the scrapes on my face. I might have changed it, but the doorbell rang.
   Zerbrowski. Richard was answering the door while I stared at myself in the mirror. That thought alone was enough. I went for the door.
   Zerbrowski was standing just inside the door, hands in the pockets of his overcoat. His curly black hair with its touches of grey was freshly cut. There was even hair-goop in it. Zerbrowski was usually lucky if he remembered to comb his hair. The suit that showed from his open coat was black and formal. His tie was tasteful and neatly knotted. I glanced down, and yes indeed, his shoes were shined. I'd never seen him when he didn't have food stains on him somewhere.
   "Where were you all dressed up?" I asked.
   "Where were you all undressed?" he asked. He smiled when he said it.
   I felt heat rush up my face and hated it a lot. I hadn't done anything worth blushing for. "Fine, let's go." I grabbed my trench coat from the back of the couch and touched dried blood. Shit.
   "I've got to get a clean coat. I'll be right back."
   "I'll just talk to Mr. Zeeman here," Zerbrowski said.
   I was afraid of that, but I went for my leather jacket anyway. If we ended up engaged, Richard would have to meet Zerbrowski sooner or later. Later would have been my preference.
   "What do you do for a living, Mr. Zeeman?"
   "I'm a schoolteacher."
   "Oh, really."
   I lost the conversation then. I grabbed the jacket from the closet and walked back out. They were chatting along like old buddies.
   "Yes, Anita is our preternatural expert. Wouldn't know what to do without her."
   "I'm ready. Let's go." I walked past them and opened the door. I held the door for Zerbrowski.
   He smiled at me. "How long have you two been dating?"
   Richard looked at me. He was pretty good at picking up when I wasn't comfortable. He was going to let me answer the question. Good of him. Too good. If he would only be completely unreasonable and give me an excuse to say no. This isn't worth it. But damn if he didn't work really hard at keeping me happy. Not an easy task.
   "Since November," I said.
   "Two months, not bad. Katie and I were engaged two months after our first date." His eyes sparkled, his grin was mocking. He was pulling my leg, he didn't know it was coming off in his hands.
   Richard looked at me. The look was long and serious. "Two months isn't very long, really."
   He'd given me an out. I didn't deserve him.
   "Long enough if it's the right one," Zerbrowski said.
   I tried to get Zerbrowski through the door. He was grinning. He had no intention of being hurried. My only hope was for Dolph to page him again. That'd light a fire under his butt.
   Dolph didn't call. Zerbrowski grinned at me. Richard looked at me. His big brown eyes were deep and wounded. I wanted to take his face in my hands and wipe that hurt from his eyes. Oh, hell.
   He was the right one—probably. "I've got to go."
   "I know," he said.
   I glanced at Zerbrowski. He was grinning at us, enjoying the show.
   Was I supposed to kiss him good-bye? We weren't engaged anymore. Quickest engagement in history. But we were still dating. I still loved him. That deserved a kiss if nothing else.
   I grabbed the front of his sweater and pulled him down to me. He looked surprised. "You don't have to do this for show," he whispered.
   "Shut up and kiss me."
   That earned me a smile. Every kiss was still a pleasant shock. No one's lips were this soft. No one else tasted this good.
   His hair fell forward and I grabbed a handful of it, pressing his face to mine. His hands slid around my back, underneath the leather jacket, hands kneading the sweater.
   I pushed away from him, breathless. I didn't want to go now. With him staying overnight maybe it was a good thing I had to leave for a while. I meant it about no premarital sex, even if he hadn't been a lycanthrope, but the flesh was more than willing. I wasn't sure the spirit was up to the fight.
   The look in Richard's eyes was drowning deep and worth anything in the world. I tried to hide a rather sappy smile but knew it was too late. I knew I would pay for this in the car with Zerbrowski. I would never hear the end of it. Staring up into Richard's face, I didn't care. We'd work out everything, eventually. Surely to God we could work it out.
   "Wait 'til I tell Dolph we were late because you were smooching with some guy."
   I didn't rise to bait. "I may not be home for hours. You might want to go home instead of waiting here."
   "I drove your Jeep here, remember? I don't have a ride home."
   Oh. "Fine, I'll be back when I can."
   He nodded. "I'll be here."
   I walked out into the hallway, not smiling anymore. I wasn't sure how I felt about coming home to Richard. How was I ever going to come to a real decision if he kept hanging around, making my hormones run amok?
   Zerbrowski chuckled. "Blake, I have seen everything now. The heap-big vampire slayer in luuv."
   I shook my head. "I don't suppose it would help to ask you to keep this to yourself?"
   He grinned. "Makes the teasing more fun."
   "Damn you, Zerbrowski."
   "Loverboy seemed sort of tense, so I didn't say anything before, but now that we're alone, what the hell happened to you? You look like someone took a meat cleaver to your face."
   Actually, I didn't. I'd seen that done once and it was a lot messier. "Long story. You know my secret. Where were you tonight all dressed up?"
   "Married ten years tonight," he said.
   "You're kidding?"
   He shook his head.
   "Big congrats," I said. We clattered down the stairs.
   "Thanks. We hired a baby-sitter and everything. She made me leave my beeper home."
   The cold bit into the sores on my face and made my head ache worse.
   "Door's not locked," Zerbrowski said.
   "You're a cop. How can you leave your car unlocked?" I opened the door and stopped. The passenger seat and floorboard were full. McDonald's take-out sacks and newspapers filled the seat and flowed onto the floorboards. A piece of petrified pizza and a herd of pop cans filled the rest of the floorboard.
   "Jesus, Zerbrowski, does the EPA know you're driving a toxic waste dump through populated areas?"
   "See why I leave it unlocked. Who would steal it?" He knelt in the seat and began shoveling armfuls of garbage into the backseat. It looked like this wasn't the first time he'd cleaned out the front seat by shoveling things in back.
   I brushed crumbs from the empty seat onto the empty floorboard. When it was as clean as I could get it, I sat down.
   Zerbrowski slid into his seat belt and started the car. It coughed to life. I put on my seat belt, and he pulled out of the parking lot.
   "How does Katie feel about your job?" I asked.
   Zerbrowski glanced at me. "She's okay with it."
   "Were you a cop when she met you?"
   "Yeah, she knew what to expect. Loverboy didn't want you to come out tonight?"
   "He thought I was too hurt to go out."
   "You do look like shit."
   "Thanks."
   "They love us, they want us to be careful. He's a junior high school teacher, for God's sake. What does he know about violence?"
   "More than he'd like to."
   "I know, I know. The schools are a dangerous place nowadays. But it isn't the same, Anita. We carry guns. Hell, you kill vampires and raise the dead, Blake. Can't get much messier than that."
   "I know that." But I didn't know that. Being a lycanthrope was messier. Wasn't it?
   "No, I don't think you do, Blake. Loving someone who lives by violence is a hard way to go. That anybody'll have us is a miracle. Don't get cold feet."
   "Did I say I was getting cold feet?"
   "Not out loud."
   Shit. "Let's drop it, Zerbrowski."
   "Anything you say. Dolph is going to be so excited that you've decided to tie the noose . . . ah, knot."
   I sank down into the seat as far as the belt would let me. "I am not getting married."
   "Maybe not yet, but I know that look, Blake. You are a drowning woman, and the only way out is down the aisle."
   I would have liked to argue, but I was too confused. Part of me believed Zerbrowski. Part of me wanted to stop dating Richard and be safe again. Okay, okay, I wasn't exactly safe before, what with Jean-Claude hanging around, but I wasn't engaged. Of course, I still wasn't engaged.
   "You okay, Blake?"
   I sighed. "I've lived alone a long time. A person gets set in her ways." Besides he's a werewolf. I didn't say that part out loud, but I wanted to. I needed a second opinion, but a police officer, especially Zerbrowski, wasn't the person to ask.
   "He crowding you?"
   "Yeah."
   "He want marriage, kids, the whole nine yards?"
   Kids. No one had mentioned children. Did Richard have this domestic vision of a little house, him in the kitchen, me working, and kids? Oh, damn, we were going to have to sit down and have a serious talk. If we did manage to get engaged like normal people, what did that mean? Did Richard want children? I certainly didn't.
   Where would we live? My apartment was too small. His house? I wasn't sure I liked that idea. It was his house. Shouldn't we have our house? Shit. Kids, me? Pregnant, me? Not in this lifetime. I thought furriness was our biggest problem. Maybe it wasn't.
   
   

29
   The river swirled black and cold. Rocks stuck up like the teeth of giants. The bank behind me was steep, thick with trees. The snow between the trees was trampled and slicked away to show the leaves underneath. The opposite bank was a bluff that jutted out over the river. No way down from there unless you were willing to jump. The water was less than five feet deep in the center of the river. Jumping from thirty feet wasn't a good idea.
   I stood carefully on the crumbling bank. The black water rushed just inches from my feet. Tree roots stuck out of the bank, tearing at the earth. The combination of snow, leaves, and nearly vertical bank seemed destined to send me into the water, but I'd fight it as long as I could.
   The rocks formed a low, broken wall into the river. Some of the stones were barely above the swirling water, but one near the center of the river stuck up about waist high. Draped over that rock was the skin. Dolph was still the master of understatement. Shouldn't a skin be smaller than a breadbox, not bigger than a Toyota? The head hung on the large rock, draped perfectly as if placed. That was one of the reasons the thing was still in the middle of the river. Dolph had wanted me to see it in case there was some ritual significance to the placement.
   There was a dive team waiting on the shore in dry suits, which are bulkier than wet suits and better at keeping you warm in cold water. A tall diver with a hood already pulled up over his hair stood by Dolph. He'd been introduced as MacAdam. "Can we go in after the skin now?"
   "Anita?" Dolph asked.
   "Better them in the water than me," I said.
   "Is it safe?" Dolph asked.
   That was a different question. Truth. "I'm not sure."
   MacAdam looked at me. "What could be out there? It's just a skin, right?"
   I shrugged. "I'm not sure what kind of skin it is."
   "So?" he asked.
   "So, remember the Mad Magician back in the seventies?"
   "I'd think you wouldn't remember it," MacAdam said.
   "I studied it in college. Magical Terrorism, senior year. The Magician specialized in leaving magical booby traps in out-of-the-way places. One of his favorite traps was an animal skin that would attach itself to whomever touched it first. Took a witch to remove it."
   "Was it dangerous?" MacAdam asked.
   "One man suffocated when it attached itself to his face."
   "How the hell did his face touch it first?"
   "Hard to ask a dead man. Animating wasn't a profession in the seventies."
   MacAdam stared off across the water. "Okay, how do you find out if it's dangerous?"
   "Has anyone been in the water yet?"
   He jerked a thumb at Dolph. "He wouldn't let us, and Sheriff Titus said to leave everything for some hotshot monster expert." He looked me up and down. "That you?"
   "That's me."
   "Well, make like an expert so my people and I can get in there."
   "You want the spotlight now?" Dolph asked. They'd had the place lit up like an opening night at Mann's Chinese Theatre. I'd made them turn off the lights after I'd gotten the first glance. There were some things that you needed light to see, other things only showed themselves in the dark.
   "No light yet. Let me see it in the dark first."
   "Why no light?" Dolph asked.
   "Some things hide from light, Dolph, and they might still take a chunk out of one of the divers."
   "You're really serious about this, aren't you?" MacAdam asked.
   "Yeah, aren't you glad?"
   He looked at me for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. How are you going to get a closer look? I know the weather just got cold the last few days, so the water should be about forty degrees, but that's still cold without a suit."
   "I'll stay on the rocks. I might dip a hand in to see if anything rises to bait, but I'll stay as dry as I can."
   "You take the monsters serious," he said, "I take the water serious. You'll get hypothermia in about five minutes in water this cold. Try not to fall in."
   "Thanks for the advice."
   "You're going to get wet," Aikensen said. He stood just above me, leaning against a tree. His Smokey Bear hat was pulled low over his head, thick woolly collar pulled up near his chin. His ears and most of his face were still bare to the cold. I hoped he got frostbite.
   He put his flashlight under his chin like a Halloween gag. He was smiling. "Didn't move a thing, Miss Blake. Left it just where we found it."
   I didn't correct him on the "miss." He'd done it just to irritate me. Ignoring it irritated him. Great.
   The Halloween smile faded, leaving him frowning in the light.
   "What's the matter, Aikensen? Didn't want to get your delicate toes wet?"
   He pushed away from the tree. The movement was too abrupt. He slid down the bank, arms windmilling, trying to slow his fall. He fell to his butt and kept scooting. He was coming straight for me.
   I took a step to one side and the bank crumbled underfoot. I gave a hop and ended up on the nearest stone in the river. I huddled on it, nearly on all fours to keep from falling into the water. The stone was wet, slick, and bone-deep cold.
   Aikensen landed in the river with a yell. He sat on his butt, freezing water swirling to nearly the middle of his chest. He beat at the water with his gloved hands, as if punishing it. All he was doing was getting wetter.
   The skin didn't slide off the rock and cover him. Nothing grabbed him. I couldn't feel any magic on the air. Nothing but the cold and the sound of water.
   "Guess nothing's going to eat him," MacAdam said.
   "Guess not," I said. I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice.
   "God's sake, Aikensen, get out of the water," Titus's voice boomed from the top of the hill. The sheriff, along with most of the other policemen, were at the top of the bank, along the gravel road that led back to the place. Two ambulances were sitting up there, too. Since Gaia's law went into effect three years ago, an ambulance had to be on the scene if there was any chance the remains were humanoid. There were ambulances being called to take away coyote carcasses, as if they were dead werewolves. The law had gone into effect, but no extra money had been put into the emergency systems across the country. Washington did like to complicate things.
   We were in the backyard of someone's summer house. Some of the houses had landings or even small boathouses, if they had deep enough water at the base of their land. The only boat you were taking off through this rocky channel was a canoe, so no landing, no boathouse, just the cold black water and a very wet deputy.
   "Aikensen, get your butt up on one of those rocks. Help Ms. Blake out, since you're already wet."
   "I don't need his help," I called back to Titus.
   "Well, now, Ms. Blake, this is our county. Wouldn't want you getting eaten by some beastie while we stayed nice and safe on shore."
   Aikensen stood, nearly falling again when his boots slid on the sandy bottom. He turned to glare at me as if it were all my fault, but he scrambled up on the rock on the side opposite the skin. He'd lost his flashlight. He was dripping wet in the dark, except for his Smokey Bear hat which he'd managed to keep above water. He looked as sullen as a wet hen.
   "Notice you're not offering to climb out on this particular limb," I said.
   Titus started down the bank. He seemed to be a lot better at it than I had been. I'd staggered like a drunk from tree to tree. Titus kept his hands out ready to catch himself, but he pretty much walked down. He stopped beside Dolph.
   "Delegation, Ms. Blake. What made the country great."
   "What do you think of that, Aikensen?" I said more softly.
   He glared at me. "He's the boss." He didn't sound like he was happy with it, but he believed it.
   "Get on with it, Anita," Dolph said.
   Translation, stop yanking everybody's chain. Everybody wanted out of the cold. Couldn't blame them. Me, too.
   I stood ever so carefully on the slick rock. My flashlight reflected off the choppy water like a black mirror, opaque and solid.
   I shone the flashlight on the first stone. It was pale and shining with water, and probably ice. I stepped onto it carefully. The next stone, still okay. Who knew Nike Airs were good for icy rocks?
   MacAdam's warning about hypothermia ran through my head. Just what I'd need, to be hospitalized from exposure. Didn't I have enough problems without having to fight the elements?
   There was a gap between the next two stones. It was a tempting distance. Almost stepping distance but just an inch out of comfort range. The stone I was on was flat, low to the water, but solid underfoot. The next one was sort of curved on one side with a point.
   "Afraid you're going to get your feet wet?" Aikensen flashed a smile that was more a baring of white teeth in the dark.
   "Jealous that you're wet and I'm not?"
   "I could get you wet," he said.
   "Only in my nightmares," I said. I had to leap for it and hope some miracle of balance kept me safe. I glanced back at the bank. I thought about asking the divers if they had an extra dry suit for me, but it seemed cowardly with Aikensen shivering on the rocks. Besides, I could probably make the jump. Probably.
   I backed to the edge of the rock I was standing on, and jumped. There was a second of being airborne, then my foot hit the rock. My foot slid off to one side. I collapsed onto the rock hugging it with both hands and one leg. The other leg ended up thigh deep in ice cold water. The shock of it left me cursing.
   I struggled back up on the rock, water streaming from the jean's pants leg. My foot hadn't touched bottom. The water on either side of the rocks would come up to my waist, if Aikensen's little wading show was a good indication. I'd found a sinkhole deep enough to have doused every inch of me. Lucky it was just my leg.
   Aikensen was laughing at me. If it had been anyone else, we might have laughed together at how ridiculous all this was, but it was him, and he laughed at me.
   "At least I didn't drop my flashlight," I said. It sounded childish even to me, but he stopped laughing. Sometimes childish will get you what you want.
   I was beside the skin now. Up close, it was even more impressive. I'd known it was reptilian from the bank. Standing next to it, I could see it was definitely a snake. The largest scales were the size of my palm. The empty eye sockets were the size of golf balls. I reached out to touch it. Something swirled against my arm as I reached for it. I screamed before I realized it was the undulating snakeskin spreading out in the water. When I could breathe again, I touched the skin. I expected it to be light, a sloughed skin. It was heavy, meaty.
   I turned the edge of it to the light. It wasn't a sloughed skin. The snake had been skinned. Whether it had been alive when the skinning started was a moot point. It was dead now. Very few creatures can survive being skinned alive.
   There was something about the scales and shape of the head that reminded me of a cobra, but the scales, even in the light of a flashlight, gleamed with opalescence. The snake wasn't any one color. It was like a rainbow or an oil slick. The color changed depending on the angle of the light.
   "You going to play with it, or can the divers come and get it?" Aikensen asked.
   I ignored him for the moment. There was something on the snake's forehead, almost between the eyes. Something smooth and round and white. I ran my fingers over it. It was a pearl. A pearl the size of a golf ball. What the hell was a giant pearl doing embedded in the head of a snake? And why hadn't whoever skinned the creature taken the pearl with him?
   Aikensen leaned forward running a hand over the skin. "Yuck. What the hell is it?"
   "Giant snake," I said.
   He jerked back with a yell. He started scraping at his arms as if he could wipe off the feel of it.
   "Afraid of snakes, Aikensen?"
   He glared at me. "No."
   It was a lie, and we both knew it.
   "The two of you enjoy being out on those rocks?" Titus asked. "Get a move on."
   "You see anything significant about the placement of the skin, Anita?" Dolph asked.
   "Not really. The thing might have just gotten hooked on the rocks. I don't think it was purposefully placed here."
   "We can move it then?"
   I nodded. "Yeah, the divers can come in. Aikensen's already tested the water for predators."
   Aikensen looked at me. "What the hell does that mean?"
   "It means there might have been creepy-crawlies in the water, but nothing tried to eat you, so it's safe."
   "You used me for bait."
   "You fell in."
   "Ms. Blake say we can move the thing?" Titus asked.
   "Yes," Dolph said.
   "Go to it, boys."
   The divers all looked at each other. "Can we have the spotlight now?" MacAdam asked.
   "Sure," I said.
   The light smashed into me. I put a hand up to shield my eyes and nearly slipped off the rock. Jesus it was bright. The water was still opaque, black, and choppy, but the rocks glistened and Aikensen and I were suddenly center stage. The bright light washed all the color from the snakeskin.
   MacAdam slipped his face mask on, regulator secure in his mouth. Only one other diver followed his lead. Guess they didn't need four to go in after the skin.
   "Why're they putting on tanks just to wade out here?" Aikensen asked.
   "Insurance in case the current gets them, or they find a sinkhole."
   "Current's not that bad."
   "Bad enough that if it catches the skin, the skin's gone. With tanks you can follow something in the water all the way down, wherever it goes."
   "You sound like you've done it."
   "I'm certified."
   "Well, aren't you multitalented," he said.
   The divers were almost out to us. Their tanks looked like the backs of whales sticking out of the water. MacAdam raised his face mask out of the water, and put a gloved hand on the rocks. He took the regulator out of his mouth, hugging the rock and paddling with his legs to keep free of the current. The other diver moved over by Aikensen.
   "There a problem if we tear the skin?" MacAdam asked.
   "I'll unhook it from this side of the rock."
   "You'll get your arm wet."
   "I'll live, right?"
   I couldn't see his face well enough under all the equipment, but I'd bet he was frowning at me.
   "Yeah, you'll live."
   I moved my hand down the front of the skin until I hit water. The cold made me hesitate, but only for a heartbeat. I reached down, soaking myself to the shoulder to untangle it. My hand touched something slick and solid that wasn't skin. I gave a small yip and jerked back, nearly falling. I got my balance and went for my gun.
   I had time to say, "Something's down there." It surfaced.
   A round face, with a screaming lipless mouth, shot upward, hands reaching for MacAdam. I had a glimpse of dark eyes before it fell back into the water.
   The divers got the hell out of there, swimming with strong sure strokes for shore.
   Aikensen had stumbled back, falling into the water. He came up sputtering, gun in hand.
   "Don't shoot it," I said. The thing surfaced again. I slid in beside it. It shrieked, its human-shaped hand groping for me. It grabbed a handful of jacket and pulled itself to me. My gun was in my hand, but I didn't shoot.
   Aikensen was aiming at it. Shouts from the shore. The other cops coming, but there was no time. There was just Aikensen and me in the river.
   The creature clung to me, not screaming now, just clinging as if I were the last thing in the world. It buried its earless face into my chest. I pointed my gun at Aikensen's chest.
   That seemed to get his attention. He blinked, focusing on me. "What the hell are you doing?"
   "Point it somewhere else, Aikensen."
   'I'm tired of looking down the barrel of your gun, bitch."
   "Ditto," I said.
   Voices shouting, movement on the bank, people coming, almost there. Only seconds left until someone came. Someone saved us. Seconds too late.
   A shot exploded next to Aikensen. Close enough to spray him with water. He jumped, and his gun fired. The creature went wild, but I was already moving, diving for the rocks. It clung to me as if attached. We floated by the big rock, swirling in snakeskin, but I managed to point the Browning at Aikensen. The sound of his Magnum vibrated in the air, echoing down my bones. If Aikensen had turned towards us, I'd have fired.
   "Goddamn it, Aikensen, put that damn gun away!" The splashing was heavy, and it was probably Titus wading into the water, but I couldn't look away from Aikensen.
   Aikensen was looking away from me towards the splashing. Dolph got there first. He loomed over Aikensen like the vengeance of God.
   Aikensen's gun started to swing towards him, as if he sensed his danger.
   "You point that gun at me and I will feed it to you," Dolph said. His voice was low and reverberated even through the ringing in my ears.
   "If he points it at you," I said, "I'll shoot him."
   "Nobody's shooting him but me." Titus waded up. He was shorter than everyone but me, so he was struggling in the water. He grabbed Aikensen by the belt and pulled him off his feet, tearing the gun from his hand as he fell into the water.
   Aikensen surfaced choking and mad. "What the hell did you do that for?"
   "Ask Ms. Blake why I did it. Ask her, ask her!" He was short and wet, and still managed to browbeat Aikensen.
   "Why?" Aikensen said.
   I'd lowered the Browning, but hadn't put it away. "Trouble with carrying a big gun, Aikensen, is that it goes through a hell of a lot of flesh."
   "What?"
   Titus pushed him, making him stumble. Aikensen struggled to stay on his feet. "If you'd pulled that trigger, boy, with the creature pressed right up against her, you'd have killed her, too."
   "I thought she was just protecting it. She said not to shoot it. Look at it!"
   Everyone turned to me then. I used the rocks to leverage to my feet. The creature was dead weight, as if he'd passed out with his hands locked in my jacket. I had more trouble putting the gun away than I had getting it out. Cold, adrenaline, and the man's hand stuck on my jacket, covering the holster.
   Because that's what I was holding. A man, a man who had been skinned alive, but somehow wasn't dead. Of course, it wasn't exactly a man.
   "It's a man, Aikensen," Titus said. "It's a hurt man. If you weren't so damn busy pulling your gun and shooting at things, you might see what's in front of ya."
   "It's a naga," I said.
   Titus didn't seem to hear me. Dolph asked, "What did you say?"
   "He's a naga."
   "Who is?" Titus asked.
   "The man," I said.
   "What the hell is a naga?"
   "Everybody out of the water now," a voice from shore yelled. It was a paramedic with an armload of blankets. "Come on folks, let's not have to run everybody into the hospital tonight." I wasn't sure, but I thought I heard the paramedic mutter under his breath, "Damn fools."
   "What the hell is a naga?" Titus asked again.
   "I'll explain if you can help me get him to shore. I'm freezing my ass off out here."
   "You're freezing more than your ass off," the paramedic said. "Everybody to shore, now. Move it people."
   "Help her," Titus said. Two uniformed deputies were in the water. They splashed up. They lifted the man, but his fists had locked into my jacket. It was a death grip. I checked the pulse in his throat. It was there, faint but steady.
   The medic was folding blankets around everybody as they hit shore. His partner, a slender woman with pale hair was staring at the naga, glistening like an open wound in the spotlight.
   "What the hell happened to him?" one of the deputies asked.
   "He's been skinned," I said.
   "Jesus Christ," the deputy said.
   "Right thought, wrong religion," I said.
   "What?"
   "Nothing. Can you pry his hands loose?" They couldn't, not easily. They ended up carrying him cradled between them. I sort of stumbled to the shore with his fingers still locked in my clothes. None of us fell. A second miracle. The first was that Aikensen was still alive. Staring at the raw bluish skin of the man, maybe the miracle count was higher than just two.
   The medic with the pale hair knelt by the naga. She let out her breath in a great whoosh of air. The other medic threw blankets around me and the two deputies.
   "When you get him pried off of you, you get your butt up to the ambulances. Get out of those wet clothes, ASAP."
   I opened my mouth and he pointed a finger at me. "Clothes off and sit in a warm ambulance, or a trip to the hospital. Your choice."
   "Aye, aye, Captain," I said.
   "And don't you forget it," he said. He moved off to spread blankets and orders to the rest of the cops.
   "What about the skin?" Titus asked. He had a blanket wrapped around him.
   "Bring it to shore," I said.
   MacAdam said, "You sure this is the only surprise out there in that sinkhole?"
   "I think this is our only naga for the night."
   He nodded and slipped back into the water with his partner. It was nice not to be argued with. Maybe it was the naked ripped body of the naga.
   The paramedics had to pry the naga's hands from my jacket a finger at a time. His fingers didn't want to uncurl. They stayed bent like the fingers of the dead after rigor had set in.
   "Do you know what he is?" the paramedic with pale hair asked.
   "A naga."
   She exchanged glances with her partner. He shook his head. "What the hell is a naga?"
   "A creature out of Hindu legend. They're mostly pictured in serpent form."
   "Great," he said. "Will he react like a reptile or a mammal?"
   "I don't know."
   The medics from the other ambulance were setting up a pulley system and directing everybody up to the warmth of the ambulances. We needed more medics.
   The paramedics spread a warm saline solution on a soft cotton sheet and wrapped the naga in it. His whole body was an open wound with all that that implied. Infection was the big threat. Could immortal beings get infections? Who knew? I knew about preternatural creatures, but first aid for the immortal? That wasn't my area.
   They bundled him in layers of blankets. I looked at the drill sergeant paramedic. "Even if he's reptilian blankets can't hurt."
   He had a point.
   "His pulse is weak but steady," the woman said. "Should we risk trying an IV or . . ."
   "I don't know," her partner answered. "He shouldn't be alive at all. Let's just move him. We'll keep him alive and get him to the hospital."
   The distant whoop of more ambulances sounded. Reinforcements were on the way. The medics put the naga on a long spine-board and fit it in a Stokes basket, attached to the ropes the other paramedics had set up at top of the hill.
   "You got any other information that'll help us treat him?" the paramedic asked. His eyes were very direct.
   "I don't think so."
   "Then get your butt up to an ambulance, now."
   I didn't argue. I was cold, and my clothes were beginning to freeze to my body even under the blanket.
   I ended up in a warm ambulance wearing nothing but a blanket while more paramedics and EMTs forced heated oxygen on me. Dolph and Zerbrowski ended up in the ambulance with me. Better them than Aikensen and Titus.
   While we waited for the medics to tell us we would all live, Dolph got back to business.
   "Tell me about nagas," Dolph said.
   "Like I said, they're creatures from Hindu legend. They're mostly pictured as snakes, particularly cobras. They can take human form. Or appear as snakes with human heads. They're the guardians of raindrops and pearls."
   "Say the last again?" Zerbrowski asked. His neatly combed hair had dried in messy curls. He'd jumped in the river to save little ol' me, even though he couldn't swim.
   I repeated it. "There's a pearl embedded in the head of the skin. I think the skin was the naga's. Someone skinned him, but he didn't die. I don't know how the skin ended up in the river, or how he did."
   Dolph said, "You mean he was a snake and they skinned him, but it didn't kill him."
   "Apparently not."
   "How is he in man form now?"
   "I don't know."
   "Why isn't he dead?" Dolph asked.
   "Nagas are immortal."
   "Shouldn't you tell the paramedics that?" Zerbrowski said.
   "He's been completely skinned and is still alive. I think they're going to figure it out on their own," I said.
   "Good point."
   "Which of you fired the shot at Aikensen?"
   "Titus did it," Dolph said.
   "He cussed him out, and took his gun away," Zerbrowski said.
   "Hope he doesn't give it back. If anyone shouldn't be armed, it's Aikensen."
   "You got an extra change of clothes with you, Blake?" Zerbrowski asked.
   "Nope."
   "I've got two pairs of sweats in the trunk of my car. I want to get back to what's left of my anniversary."
   The thought of wearing a used pair of sweats that had been sitting in Zerbrowski's car was too much for me. "I don't think so, Zerbrowski."
   He grinned at me. "They're clean. Katie and I were going to exercise today but never got around to it."
   "Never made it to the gym, huh," I said.
   "No." Color crept up his neck. It must have been something really good, or really embarrassing to get to Zerbrowski that quickly.
   "What kind of exercise were you two doing?" I asked.
   "A man needs exercise," Dolph said solemnly.
   Zerbrowski looked at me, eyebrows going up. "And how much of a workout is your sweetie giving you?" He turned to Dolph. "Did I tell you that Blake's got herself a boyfriend? He's sleeping over."
   "Mr. Zeeman answered the phone," Dolph said.
   "Isn't your phone right beside your bed, Blake?" Zerbrowski asked. He was giving me his best wide innocent brown eyes.
   "Get the sweats and get me out of here," I said.
   Zerbrowski laughed, and Dolph joined him.
   "These are Katie's sweats so don't get anything on them. If you really want to work out, do it nude."
   I flashed him a one-fingered salute.
   "Oh, do that again," Zerbrowski said, "your blanket gaped."
   I was just amusing the hell out of everyone.
   
   

30
   I was standing in my hallway at four o'clock. I was dressed in a very pink sweatsuit. My wet clothes were held sort of gingerly in a bundle under my left arm. Even with the new pink sweats, I was cold. The paramedics had only let me go because I promised to drink hot fluids and take a hot bath. I'd run up the stairs in a pair of gym socks. I could wear Katie's sweats, but not her shoes.
   I was cold, tired, and my face hurt. The headache was gone, though. Maybe it was being dunked in ice-cold water. Maybe it was the touch of a naga. I couldn't recall any stories associating them with spontaneous healing, but it had been a long time since I read up on nagas. They'd been on the final in preternatural bio class. The big clue had been the pearl and the cobra skin. I was going to have to dig up my textbook and reread the section. Though the doc on call at whatever hospital they went to was going to have to read up faster than I was. Would nagas be in their computers? By law, they'd better be. Would the naga have anyone to sue for him if they didn't? Would he rise from his deathbed and sue himself?
   I stood in front of my apartment for the second time in six hours and had no key. I leaned my head against the door for just a second and felt sorry for myself. I didn't want to see Richard again tonight. We had a lot to talk about that had nothing to do with his shapeshifting. I wished I hadn't thought of children. I didn't want to discuss the little tykes tonight. I didn't want to discuss anything. I wanted to drag off to bed and be alone.
   I took a deep breath and stood straight. No need to look as woebegone as I felt. I rang my own doorbell and vowed to get an extra set of keys made. No, one of them wasn't for Richard. They were both for me.
   Richard opened the door. His hair was sleep tousled, falling in a heavy, wavy mass around his face. He was shirtless and barefoot. The top button of his jeans was undone. I was suddenly glad to see him. Lust is a wonderful thing.
   I grabbed the top edge of his jeans and drew him to me. He jumped when my wet clothes touched his bare chest, but he didn't pull away. His body was almost fever warm from sleep. I warmed my hands along his spine and he twitched, writhing against the cold but never pulling away. I dropped the wet clothes on the floor.
   We kissed. His lips were gentle. My hands traced the edge of his waistband, fingers dangerously low. He spoke low and soft next to my ear. I expected sweet nothings or dirty promises. What I got was, "We have company."
   I sort of froze. I had this image of Ronnie, or worse Irving, sitting on the couch while we groped each other. "Shit," I said softly and with feeling.
   "Home at last, ma petite." It was much worse than Irving.
   I stared up at Richard with my mouth hanging open. "What's going on?"
   "He came in while I was asleep. I woke up when the door opened."
   I was suddenly cold again, down to my sodden toes. "Are you all right?"
   "Do you really want to discuss this in the hall, ma petite?" Jean-Claude's voice was oh so reasonable.
   I wanted to stand in the hall just because he'd said not to, but that was childish. Besides, it was my apartment.
   I stepped through the door, Richard a warm presence at my side. I kicked my wet clothes through the door, keeping my hands free. The gun was in plain sight over the sweats. The holster flapped loose without a belt, but I could draw the gun if I needed it. I probably didn't need it, but it was good to keep reminding the master that I meant business.
   Richard closed the door and leaned against it, hands behind his back. His face was nearly hidden by a spill of hair. The muscles in his stomach bunched and just seemed to invite caressing, which was what we'd probably have been doing if there hadn't been a vampire in my living room.
   Jean-Claude sat on my couch. The black shirt was spread around his naked torso. His arms were straight out along the back of the couch, raising the shirt, revealing nipples that were only two shades darker than his white skin. A slight smile curled his lips. He was dramatic and perfect on the white couch. He matched the decor. Shit. I was going to have to buy new furniture, something not white, not black.
   "What are you doing here, Jean-Claude?"
   "Is that any way to greet your new suitor?"
   "Don't be a pain in the ass tonight, please. I'm too tired and too sore to mess with it. Tell me why you're here and what you want, then get out."
   He rose to his feet as if pulled by strings, all boneless ease. At least the shirt closed on most of the pale perfection of his body. That was something.
   "I am here to see you and Richard."
   "Why?"
   He laughed, and the sound rolled over me like a wave of fur, soft and slick, tickling, and dead. I took a deep breath and stripped the holster off. He wasn't here to hurt. He was here to flirt. I walked past both of them and draped the holster on the back of a kitchen chair. I felt their eyes follow me as I moved. It was both flattering and uncomfortable as hell.
   I glanced back at them. Richard was still by the door, looking unclothed and inviting. Jean-Claude stood by the couch utterly still, like a three-dimensional picture of a wet dream. The sexual potential in the room was astronomical. The fact that nothing was going to happen was almost sad.
   There was still coffee in the pot. If I drank enough hot coffee and took a really hot bath, maybe I'd thaw out. My preference would have been a hot shower, quicker at four o'clock in the morning. But I'd promised the paramedics. Something about my core temperature.
   "Why did you want to see Richard and me?" I poured coffee into my freshly washed penguin mug. Richard was good at being domestic.
   "I was told that Monsieur Zeeman planned to spend the night."
   "If he did, what of it?"
   "Who told you?" Richard asked. He'd pushed away from the door. He'd even buttoned the top button of his pants. Pity.
   "Stephen told me."
   "He wouldn't have volunteered the information," Richard said. He was standing very close to Jean-Claude. Physically, he was looming above him, just a bit. Half-dressed. He should have looked uncertain, hesitant. He looked completely at home. The first time I'd met Richard, he'd been naked in a bed. He hadn't been embarrassed then, either.
   "Stephen did not volunteer it," Jean-Claude said.
   "He is under my protection," Richard said.
   "You are not pack leader yet, Richard. You can protect Stephen within the pack, but Marcus still rules. He has given Stephen to me, as he gave you to me."
   Richard was just standing there. He hadn't moved, yet suddenly, the air around him swam. If you blinked, you'd have missed it. A creeping edge of power fanned out, prickling along my skin. Shit.
   "I belong to no one."
   Jean-Claude turned to him. Face pleasant, open, voice conversational. "You do not acknowledge Marcus's leadership?" It was a trick question, and we all knew it.
   "What happens if he says no?" I asked.
   Jean-Claude turned back to me. His face was carefully blank. "He says no."
   "And you tell Marcus, and then what?"
   He smiled then, a slow curve of lips that left his perfect blue eyes glittering. "Marcus would see it as a direct challenge to his authority."
   I set down the cup of coffee and came around the island. Standing nearly between them, Richard's energy crawled over my skin like insects on the march. From Jean-Claude there was nothing. The undead make no noise. "If you get Richard killed, even indirectly, the deal is off."
   "I don't need you to protect me," Richard said.
   "If you get yourself killed fighting Marcus, that's one thing, but if you get killed because Jean-Claude is jealous of you, that's my fault."
   Richard touched my shoulder. His power was like a rush of electricity down my body. I shivered, and he dropped his hand. "I could just give in to Marcus, just acknowledge his leadership, then I'd be safe."
   I shook my head. "I've seen what Marcus considers acceptable. It's not even close to being safe."
   "Marcus didn't know they filmed two endings," Richard said.
   "So you have talked to him about it?"
   "Are you referring to the delightful little films that Raina masterminded?" Jean-Claude asked.
   We both looked at him. A brush of power lashed out, growing stronger. It was hard to breathe standing next to him, like trying to swallow a thunderstorm.
   I shook my head. One problem at a time. "What do you know about the films?" I asked.
   Jean-Claude looked at us, one and then the other. He ended staring into my eyes. "Your voice makes it sound more important than it should be. What has Raina done now?"
   "How do you know about the films?" Richard asked. He moved a step closer. His chest touched my back, and I gasped. The skin up and down my back tingled as if someone had touched a live wire to the skin, but it didn't hurt. It was just an almost overwhelming sensation. Pleasurable, but you knew if it didn't stop soon, it would begin to hurt.
   I stepped away from him, standing between both of them, giving my back to neither. They both looked at me. Almost identical expressions on their faces. Alien, as if they were thinking thoughts that I'd never dreamed of, listening to music that I could not dance to. I was the only human in this room.
   "Jean-Claude, just tell me what you know about Raina's movies. No games, okay."
   He stared at me for a heartbeat, then gave a graceful shrug. "Very well. Your alpha female invited me to join her in a dirty movie. I was offered a starring role."
   I knew he'd turned her down. He was an exhibitionist, but he liked a certain decorum to his sideshow. Dirty movies would have been beyond the pale for him.
   "Did you enjoy having sex with her on screen?" Richard asked. His voice was low, and that energy flooded into the room.
   Jean-Claude turned to him, anger dancing in his eyes. "She brags about you, my furry friend. Says you were magnificent."
   "Cheap shot, Jean-Claude," I said.
   "You don't believe me. You are that sure of him?"
   "That he wouldn't have sex with Raina, yeah."
   A strange look crossed Richard's face.
   I stared at him. "You didn't?"
   Jean-Claude laughed.
   "I was nineteen. She was my alpha female. I didn't think I had a choice."
   "Yeah, right."
   "She has her pick of the new males. It's one of the things I want to stop."
   "You're still sleeping with her?" I asked.
   "No, not once I had a choice," Richard answered.
   "Raina speaks so fondly of you, Richard. In such loving detail. It can't have been that long ago."
   "It's been seven years."
   "Really?" That one word held a universe of doubt.
   "I don't lie to you, Anita," said Richard.
   Richard took a step forward. Jean-Claude moved towards him. The testosterone was rising higher than the supernatural powers. We were going to drown in both.
   I stepped between them, bodily, putting a hand on each chest. The minute my hand touched Richard's bare skin, the power poured down my arm, like some cool electric liquid. My hand touched Jean-Claude a second later. Some trick of cloth, or vampire, put my hand on his bare skin, too. The skin was cool and soft, and I felt Richard's power cross my body and smash into that perfect skin.
   The moment it touched, an answering roll of power spilled out of the vampire. The two energies did not fight each other, they mingled inside me, spilling back on each of them. Jean-Claude's power was a cool, rushing wind. Richard was all warmth and electricity. Each one fed the other like wood and flame. And under it all I could feel myself, that thing inside me that allowed me to call the dead. Magic for lack of a better word. The three powers melded into one skin-curling, heart-pumping, stomach-clenching rush.
   My knees buckled, and I was left gasping on the floor on all fours. My skin felt as if it were trying to pull away from my body. I could taste my heart in my throat and couldn't breathe past it. Everything was sort of golden around the edges, and spots of light danced before my eyes. I was in danger of passing out.
   "What the hell was that?" It was Richard. His voice seemed to come from farther away than it should have. I'd never heard him cuss before.
   Jean-Claude knelt beside me. He didn't try to touch me. I looked into his eyes from inches away. The pupils were gone, nothing but that lovely midnight blue remained. It was the way his eyes looked when he was getting all vampiric on me. I didn't think he'd done it on purpose this time.
   Richard knelt on the other side. He started to reach out to touch me. When his hand was an inch away, a little jump of power ran between us, like static electricity. He jerked his hand back. "What is that?" He sounded a little scared. Me, too.
   "Ma petite, can you speak?"
   I nodded. Everything was in hyperfocus, the way the world gets on an adrenaline high. The shadows on Jean-Claude's chest where his shirt spilled around him were solid and touchable. The cloth looked almost metallic black, like the back of a beetle.
   "Say something, ma petite."
   "Anita, are you all right?"
   I turned in almost slow motion to Richard. His hair had fallen over one eye. Each strand was thick and perfect like a line drawn apart. I could see every eyelash around his brown eye in startling contrast.
   "I'm all right." But was I?
   "What happened?" Richard asked. I wasn't sure who he was asking. I hoped it wasn't me because I didn't know.
   Jean-Claude sat beside me on the floor, back against the island. He closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. When he let it out, his eyes opened. They were still that drowning deep color as if he were about to feed on something. His voice came out normal, or as normal as it ever got. "I have never tasted such a rush of power without spilling blood first."
   "Trust you to think of the perfect thing to say," I said.
   Richard sort of hovered over me as if he'd like to help but was afraid to touch me. He glared at Jean-Claude. "What did you do to us?"
   "I?" Jean-Claude's beautiful face was nearly slack, eyes half-closed, lips parted. "I did nothing."
   "That's a lie," Richard said. He sat Indian fashion a little ways from me, far enough away to make sure we didn't accidentally touch but close enough that that lingering power crawled between us. I inched away and found that closer to Jean-Claude wasn't much better. Whatever it was, it wasn't a one-time deal. The potential was still there in the air, under our skins.
   I looked at Richard. "You sound awfully sure that he's up to something. I'm willing to believe it. But what do you know that I don't?"
   "I didn't do it. You didn't do it. I know magic when I smell it. It had to be him."
   Smell it? I turned back to Jean-Claude. "Well?"
   He laughed. The sound trailed down my spine like the brush of fur, soft, slick, startling. It was too soon after the rushing power we'd shared. I shuddered, and he laughed harder. It hurt and you knew you shouldn't be doing it, but it felt too good to stop. His laughter was always dangerously delicious, like poisoned candy.
   "I swear by whatever oath you would trust that I did nothing on purpose."
   "What did you do by accident?" I asked.
   "Ask yourself the same question, ma petite. I am not the only master of the supernatural in this room."
   Well, he had me there. "You're saying one of us did it."
   "I am saying that I do not know who did it, nor do I know what itis. But Monsieur Zeeman is correct it was magic. Raw power to raise the hackles on any wolf."
   "What's that supposed to mean?" Richard asked.
   "If you could harness such power, my wolf, even Marcus might bow to it."
   Richard pulled his knees up, hugging them to his chest. His eyes looked distant, thoughtful. The thought intrigued him.
   "Am I the only person in this room not trying to consolidate my kingdom?"
   Richard looked at me. He looked almost apologetic. "I don't want to kill Marcus. If I could make a great enough show of power, he might back down."
   Jean-Claude smiled at me. It was a very satisfied smile. "You admit he is not human, and now he wants power, so he can be leader of the pack." His smile widened just this short of a laugh.
   "I didn't know you were a fan of sixties music," I said.
   "There are many things you do not know about me, ma petite."
   I just stared at him. The image of Jean-Claude boogying down to the Shangri-Las was stranger than anything I'd seen tonight. After all I believed in nagas, I didn't believe that Jean-Claude had hobbies.
   

31
   A hot bath. Once more in the oversize T-shirt, sweatpants, and socks. I was going to be the worst-dressed person in the room. I was planning to replace that black robe at the first opportunity.
   They were sitting on the couch, each as far away from the other as they could get. Jean-Claude was sitting like a mannequin, one arm on the back of the couch, the other on the arm of the couch. One foot rested atop his knee showing his soft boots to perfection. Richard was curled on his side of the couch, one knee clutched to his naked chest, the other knee curled on the couch.
   Richard looked comfortable. Jean-Claude looked as if he were waiting for a roving photographer to come by. The two men in my life. I could barely stand it.
   "I've got to get some sleep, so everybody who isn't staying, out."
   "If you are referring to me, ma petite, I have no intention of leaving. Unless Richard goes with me."
   "Stephen told you why I'm here," Richard said. "She's hurt and doesn't need to be alone."
   "Look at her, Richard. Does she look hurt?" He held up a graceful hand. "I admit she has sustained some damage. But she does not need your help. Perhaps she doesn't even need mine."
   "I invited Richard to stay over. I did not invite you."
   "But you didinvite me, ma petite."
   "First, please stop calling me that. Second, when did I invite you?"
   "'The last time I was here. In August I believe."
   Shit, I'd forgotten. It was beyond careless. I'd endangered Richard. Things were working out, but I hadn't known that when I left him here alone, alone in a place where Jean-Claude could come and go at will.
   "I can take care of that right now," I said.
   "If a dramatic gesture will please you, then be my guest. But Richard must not spend the night."
   "Why not?"
   "I think you are one of those women that where you give your body, there, too, is your heart. If you sleep with our Monsieur Zeeman, I think it might be the point of no return."
   "Sex isn't a commitment," I said.
   "For most people, no, but for you, I think it is."
   The fact that he knew me that well brought heat in a rush up my face. Damn him. "I don't plan on sleeping with him."
   "I believe you, ma petite, but I see the way your eyes follow him. He sits there looking luscious and warm and very alive. If I had not been here when you came home, would you have resisted?"
   "Yes."
   He shrugged. "Perhaps. Your strength of will is frightening, but I cannot take that chance."
   "You don't trust me not to molest him?"
   Again that shrug that could have meant anything. His smile was inviting and condescending.
   "Why? You got the hots for him yourself?"
   The question caught him off guard. The surprise on his face was worth the outraged look on Richard's face. Jean-Claude looked at Richard. He gave him his full attention. He stared at Richard, eyes roaming his body in a slow, intimate dance. His gaze ended not on his groin or his chest, but on his neck. "It is true that the blood of shapeshifters can be sweeter than human blood. It is a wild ride if you can manage it without getting torn apart."
   "You sound like a rapist," I said.
   His smile blossomed in a surprised flash of fangs. "It is not a bad comparison."
   "That was an insult, you know," I said.
   "I know it was meant as such."
   "I thought we had an agreement," Richard said.
   "We do."
   "You can sit there and talk about taking me for food, and we've still got an agreement."
   "It would be enjoyable to take you for many reasons, but we have an agreement. I won't go back on it."
   "What agreement?" I asked.
   "We are exploring our mutual powers," Jean-Claude said.
   "What does that mean exactly?" I asked.
   "We're not sure," Richard said. "We haven't worked out the details yet."
   "We've just agreed not to kill each other, ma petite. Give us a little time to plan beyond that."
   "Fine. Then both of you get out."
   Richard sat up straighter on the couch. "Anita, you heard Lillian. You need to be woken every hour just in case."
   "I'll set an alarm. Look, Richard, I'm fine. Get dressed and go."
   He looked puzzled and a little hurt. "Anita."
   Jean-Claude didn't look hurt or puzzled. He looked smug.
   "Richard's not spending the night. Happy?"
   "Yes."
   "And you're not spending the night, either."
   "I had not planned to." He stood, turning to face me. "I will leave as soon as I've had my good-night kiss."
   "Your what?"
   "My kiss." He came around the couch to stand in front of me. "I will admit I had envisioned you wearing something a little more"—he tugged on my sleeve—"salacious, but one takes what one can get."
   I jerked the sleeve out of his fingers. "You haven't gotten anything yet."
   "True, but I am hopeful."
   "I don't know why," I said.
   "The agreement between Richard and me is predicated on the fact that we are all dating. You date Richard, and you date me. We both woo you. One cozy little family."
   "Can you speed this up? I want to get to bed."
   A slight frown appeared between his eyes. "Anita, you are not making this easy."
   "Hurrah," I said.
   The frown smoothed out as he sighed. "You would think I would give up on you ever being easy."
   "Yes," I said, "you would."
   "A good-night kiss, ma. . . Anita. If you truly intend to date me, it will not be the last."
   I glared up at him. I wanted to tell him to go to hell, but there was something about the way he stood there. "If I say no kiss, what then?"
   "I go away for tonight." He took that step closer to me that put us almost touching. The cloth of his shirt brushed the front of my T-shirt. "But if you give Richard kisses and do not allow me such privileges, then the agreement is off. If I cannot touch you, and he can, it is hardly fair."
   I'd agreed to the dating because it seemed like a good idea at the time, but now . . . I hadn't really thought through all the implications. Dating, kissing, making out. Yikes! "I don't kiss until after the first date."
   "But you have already kissed me, Anita."
   "Not willingly," I said.
   "Tell me you did not enjoy it, ma petite."
   I'd have loved to lie, but neither of them would have bought it. "You are an intrusive bastard."
   "Not as intrusive as I would like to be," he said.
   "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Richard said. He was on his knees on the couch, hands gripping the back.
   I shook my head. I wasn't sure I could explain it out loud, but if we were really going to do this, Jean-Claude was right. I couldn't hold Richard's hand and not his. Though it did give me a real incentive not to go all the way with Richard. Tit for tat and all that.
   "After our first date you can have a willing kiss, not before," I said. I was going to give it the old college try.
   He shook his head. "No, Anita. You yourself told me you liked Richard, not just loved him. That you could see spending your life with him, but not with me. Perhaps he is a more likable fellow. I cannot compete in niceness."
   "That's certainly gospel," I said.
   He stared down at me with his blue, blue eyes. No drag of power, but there was a weight to his gaze. Not magic, but dangerous all the same.
   "But in one area I can compete." I could feel his gaze on my body as if he'd touched me. The weight of his gaze made me shiver.
   "Stop it."
   "No." One word, soft, caressing. His voice was one of his best things. "One kiss, Anita, or we can end it here, tonight. I will not lose you without a struggle."
   "You'd fight Richard tonight, just because I won't kiss you."
   "It is not the kiss, ma petite. It is what I saw tonight when you met him at the door. I see you forming a couple before my eyes. I must interfere now, or all is lost."
   "You'll use your voice to trap her," Richard said.
   "I promise, no tricks tonight."
   If he said no tricks, he meant it. Once he gave his word he kept it. Which also meant he would fight Richard tonight over a kiss. I'd left both guns in the bedroom. I thought we were safe for tonight. I was too damn tired to do this tonight.
   "Okay," I said.
   "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Anita," Richard said.
   "If we are all going to go down in a bloody mess, let it be over something more important than a kiss."
   "You want to do it," Richard said. "You want to kiss him." He didn't sound pleased.
   What was I supposed to say? "What I want most right this moment is to go to bed, alone. I want some sleep." That at least was the truth. Maybe not all of the truth, but enough to earn me a puzzled frown from Richard, and an exasperated sigh from Jean-Claude.
   "Then if it is such a distasteful duty, let it be done quickly," Jean-Claude said.
   We were standing so close, he didn't have to make a full step to press the line of his body against mine. I tried to put my hands up, to keep our bodies apart. My hands slid over the bare skin of his stomach. I jerked back from him, balling my hands into fists. The feel of his skin clung to my hands.
   "What is it, ma petite?"
   "Leave her alone," Richard said. He was standing beside the couch, hands in loose fists. Power prickled along my skin. His power creeping outward like a slow-moving wind. His hair had spilled over one side of his face. He looked out through a curtain of hair. His face had fallen into shadows. Light gleamed along his naked skin, painting it in shades of grey, gold, and black. He stood there looking suddenly primal. A low, spine-brushing grow trickled through the room.
   "Stop it, Richard."
   "He is using his powers on you." His voice was unrecognizable. A low, bass growl that was sliding away from human. I was glad for the shadows. Glad I couldn't see what was happening to his face.
   I'd been so worried about Jean-Claude starting a fight, it hadn't occurred to me that Richard might pick one. "He isn't using powers on me. I touched his bare skin. That's all."
   He stepped forward into the light, and his face was normal. What was happening inside that smooth throat, behind those kissable lips, to make his voice sound monstrous?
   "Get dressed and get out."
   "What?" His lips moved but that growling voice rolled out. It was like watching a badly dubbed movie.
   "If Jean-Claude isn't allowed to attack you, then you sure as hell aren't allowed to attack him. I thought he was the only monster I had to deal with. If you can't behave like a human being, Richard, get out."
   "What of my kiss, ma petite?"
   "You have both pushed it about as far as it's going to go tonight," I said. "Everybody out."
   Jean-Claude's laugh filled the shadowed dark. "As you like, Anita Blake. I am suddenly not so worried about you and Monsieur Zeeman."
   "Before you start congratulating yourself, Jean-Claude—I revoke my invitation."
   There was a sound like a low sonic pop. A great roaring filled the room. The door smashed open, banging against the wall. A wind rushed in like an invisible river, tugging at our clothes, flinging our hair across our eyes.
   "You don't have to do this," Jean-Claude said.
   "Yes," I said, "I do."
   It was as if an invisible hand shoved him through the door. Slamming the door shut behind him.
   "I'm sorry," Richard said. The growl was slipping away. His voice was almost normal. "It is too close to the full moon to get this angry."
   "I don't want to hear it," I said. "Just go."
   "Anita, I am sorry. I don't usually lose control like this. Even this close to the full moon."
   "What was different tonight?"
   "I've never been in love before. It seems to break my concentration."
   "Jealousy will do that to you," I said.
   "Tell me I don't have reason to be jealous, Anita. Make me believe it."
   I sighed. "Go away, Richard. I've still got to clean my guns and knife before I can go to bed."
   He smiled and shook his head. "I guess tonight didn't reassure you about how human I am." He walked around the couch and bent over, retrieving his sweater from the floor, where it lay neatly folded.
   He pulled the sweater over his head. He pulled a ponytail holder from his jeans pocket, and tied his hair back. I could see the muscles in his arms work even through the sweater. He slipped his shoes on, bending over to tie them.
   His coat was long, falling to his ankles. In the half light it looked like a cape.
   "I don't suppose I get a kiss, either."
   "Good night, Richard," I said.
   He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Good night, Anita."
   He left. I locked the door. I cleaned my weapons and went to bed. After the show that Richard and Jean-Claude had put on, the Browning was about the only thing I wanted in bed with me tonight. All right, the gun and one stuffed penguin.
   
   

32
   The phone was ringing. It seemed to have been ringing a long time. I lay in bed listening to it ring, wondering when the hell the machine would pick up. I rolled over, reaching for the phone. It was missing. The ringing was coming from the other room. Shit. I'd forgotten to bring it back in last night.
   I crawled out of the warm covers and staggered into the living room. The phone must have rung fifteen times before I got to it. I sank to the floor with the receiver clutched to my ear. "Who is it?"
   "Anita?"
   "Ronnie?"
   "You sound awful."
   "I look worse," I said.
   "What's up?"
   "Later, why are you calling at"—I glanced at my wristwatch—" seven o'clock in the freaking morning. This better be good, Ronnie."
   "Oh, it's good, all right. I thought we should catch George Smitz before he goes to work."
   "Why?" My face was throbbing. I lay down on the carpet, cradling the phone against my ear. The carpet was very soft.
   "Anita, Anita, are you there?"
   I blinked and realized I'd fallen asleep. I sat up and leaned against the wall. "I'm here, but I didn't hear a word you said after something about needing to talk to Smitz before work."
   "I know you're not a morning person, Anita, but you've never fallen asleep on me before. How much sleep did you get last night?"
   "About an hour."
   "Oh, God, I am sorry. But I knew you'd want to know. I've found the smoking gun."
   "Ronnie, please, what are you talking about?"
   "I have pictures of George Smitz with another woman." She let that sink in for a moment or two. "Anita, are you there?"
   "I'm here. I'm thinking." The last was harder to do than I wanted it to be. I am never at my best first thing in the morning. After an hour's sleep I wasn't even close to my best. "Why do you say it's a smoking gun?"
   "Well, a lot of times a spouse will report the other spouse missing to divert suspicion."
   "You think Smitz offed his wife?"
   "How poetically you put it, but yes, I do."
   "Why? A lot of men cheat on their wives, most of them don't kill them."
   "Here's the clincher. After I took the pictures, I talked to a few gun stores in the area. He'd bought some silver bullets at a store near the butcher shop."
   "Not very bright," I said.
   "Most murderers aren't."
   I nodded, realized she couldn't see it, and didn't care. "Fine, looks like Mr. Smitz isn't the grieving widower he pretended to be. What do you want to do about it?"
   "Confront him at home."
   "Why not go to the cops?"
   "The store clerk isn't exactly positive it was George."
   I closed my eyes. "Great, just great. You think he'll confess to us?"
   "He might. He's shared a bed with her for fifteen years. Mother of his children. There's got to be a lot of guilt there."
   I don't think real well on an hour's sleep. "Cops, we should have the cops waiting in the wings, at least."
   "Anita, he's a client of mine. I don't turn clients over to the cops unless I have to. If he confesses, I'll bring them in. If he doesn't confess, I'll hand over what I have. But I've got to try it my way first."
   "Fine, do you call him and tell him we're coming or do you want me to?"
   "I'll do it. I just thought you'd like to be there."
   "Yeah, let me know when."
   "He hasn't gone to work yet. I'll call him and be over to pick you up."
   I wanted to say, "No, I have to go back to sleep," but what if he had killed her? What if he'd taken the others? George hadn't struck me as dangerous enough to take out shapeshifters, but then I'd thought he was genuinely grieving. Genuinely worried about his wife. What the hell did I know?
   "I'll be ready," I said. I hung up without saying good-bye. I was getting as bad as Dolph. I'd apologize when Ronnie got here.
   The phone rang before I could crawl to my feet. "What is it, Ronnie?"
   "Anita, it's Richard."
   "Sorry, Richard, what's up?"
   "You sound awful."
   "You don't. You didn't get much more sleep than I did. How come you sound so much better? Please tell me you aren't a morning person."
   He laughed. "Sorry, guilty as charged."
   Furry I could forgive; a morning person, I'd have to think about that. "Richard, don't take this wrong, but what do you want?"
   "Jason's missing."
   "Who's Jason?"
   "Young male, blond, crawled all over you at the Lunatic Cafe."
   "Ah, I remember him. He's missing."
   "Yes. Jason is one of our newest pack members. Tonight is the full moon. He wouldn't risk going out alone today of all days. His sponsor went over to his house, and he was gone."
   "Sponsor like in AA?"
   "Something like that."
   "Any signs of a struggle?"
   "No."
   I stood up dragging the phone in one hand. I tried to think past the leaden tiredness. How dare Richard sound so cheerful. "Peggy Smitz's husband—Ronnie caught him with another woman. A clerk may have sold him silver bullets."
   There was silence on the other end of the phone. I could hear his soft breathing, but that was all. The breathing was a little fast.
   "Talk to me, Richard."
   "If he killed Peggy, then we'll handle it."
   "Has it occurred to you that he could be behind all the disappearances?" I asked.
   "I don't see how."
   "Why not? A silver bullet will take care of any shapeshifter. No great skill involved. You just need to be someone that the shapeshifter trusts."
   More silence finally. "Okay, what do you want to do?"
   "Ronnie and I were going to confront him this morning. With Jason missing we don't have time to pussy-foot around. Can you supply me with a shapeshifter or two to help threaten Smitz? Maybe with a little muscle power we can get to the truth faster."
   "I have to teach school today, and I can't afford for him to know what I am."
   "I didn't ask for you to come. Just for some of you to come. Make sure they look intimidating, though. Irving may be a werewolf, but he isn't very scary."
   "I'll send someone. To your apartment?"
   "Yeah."
   "When?"
   "Soon as you can. And, Richard."
   "Yes."
   "Don't tell anybody what we suspect about George Smitz. I don't want to find him clawed up when we get there."
   "I wouldn't do that."
   'You wouldn't, but Marcus might, and I know Raina would."
   "I'll tell them you have a suspect and want some backup. I won't tell them who."
   "Great, thanks."
   "If you find Jason before they kill him, I'll owe you one."
   "I'll take the payment in carnal favors," I said. The minute I said it, I wished I hadn't. It was sort of true, but after last night, not down to my toes.
   He laughed. "Done. I've got to go to work. I love you."
   I hesitated just a second. "I love you, too. Teach the kiddies well today."
   He was quiet for a space of heartbeats. He'd heard the hesitation. "I will. Bye."
   "Bye." When I'd hung up, I stood there for a minute. If someone was just walking up and shooting shifters, then Jason was dead. The best I'd be able to do would be to locate the body. It was better than nothing, but not much.
   

33
   We pulled up in front of George Smitz's house at a little after nine that morning. Ronnie was driving. I was riding shotgun. Gabriel and Raina were in the backseat. If asked, I would have chosen different people for backup. I also wouldn't have chosen my boyfriend's old lover for backup. What had Richard been thinking? Or maybe Raina hadn't given him a choice. Her coming today, not the sex. I still wasn't sure how I felt about that. All right. I knew how I felt. I was pissed. But I'd slept with someone else. Glass houses and all. In any case, Richard had given me exactly what I'd asked for: scary, intimidating shapeshifters. I wasn't used to getting exactly what I asked for. Next time I'd be more specific.
   Gabriel was dressed in black leather again. It could almost have been the same outfit I'd first seen him in, down to the metal-studded gauntlet on his right hand. Maybe his whole closet was one great big leather fest. The earrings were gone. The holes even in the harder cartilage of the ears had healed.
   Raina was dressed normally enough. Sort of. She was wearing an ankle-length fur coat. Fox. Cannibalism is one thing, but wearing the skin of your dead? It seemed a little cold blooded even for the psycho bitch from hell. All right, she was a wolf, not a fox, but heck, I didn't wear fur on moral grounds. She flaunted it.
   She leaned over the back of the seat. "What are we doing in front of Peggy's house?"
   It was time to spill the beans. Why didn't I want to do it? I undid the seat belt and turned to face her. She was looking at me, face pleasant enough. On her lycanthrope bone structure she had all high cheekbones and a luscious mouth. Maybe she planned on doing something nefarious today.
   Gabriel had draped himself over the backseat. The gauntleted hand trailed down Ronnie's arm. Even through her suede coat she shivered. "Touch me again, and I am going to feed you that hand." She'd scooted away from him as far as the steering wheel would allow, which wasn't far. Gabriel had touched her several times on the drive over. Teasing, nothing embarrassing, but it was bothersome.
   "Hands are very bony. I prefer a more tender cut of meat. Breast or thigh is my preference," Gabriel said. His grey eyes were startling even in sunlight, maybe more so. They had a quality of light to the grey that was almost luminous. I'd seen eyes like that before, but I still couldn't place it.
   "Gabriel, I know you are a pain in the ass. I know you're enjoying the hell out of teasing Ronnie, but if you don't stop it we're going to see just how good your recuperative powers are."
   He slid across the seat, closer to me. Not necessarily an improvement. "I'm yours anytime you want me."
   "Is coming that close to dying really your idea of sex?"
   "As long as it hurts," Gabriel said.
   Ronnie looked at us with wide eyes. "You have got to tell me about your evening."
   "You really don't want to know," I said.
   "Why are we here?" Raina asked again. She wasn't going to be distracted by Mr. Leather. Good for her. Bad for me. Her gaze was intense, as if my face were the most important thing in the world. Was this what Marcus saw in her? A lot of men are very flattered by undivided attention. Then aren't we all?
   "Ronnie?"
   She got the pictures out of her purse. They were the kind of pictures that didn't need any explanation. George had left his drapes up, very careless.
   Gabriel curled back into the seat, flipping through the shots, a big smile on his face. He got to one particular shot, and laughed. "Very impressive."
   Raina's reaction was very different. She wasn't amused. She was angry. "You brought us out here to punish him for cheating on Peggy?"
   "Not exactly," I said. "We think he is responsible for her disappearance. If he's responsible for one disappearance, he could be responsible for more."
   Raina looked at me. The concentration was just as pure but now I had to fight an urge to squirm. Her rage was pure and simple. George had hurt a pack member. He would pay for that. There was no uncertainty in her gaze, only an instant rage.
   "Let Ronnie and I do the talking. The two of you are here to intimidate him if we need it."
   "If there is any chance he has Jason, we don't have time to be subtle," Raina said.
   I agreed with her, but not out loud. "We talk, you stay in the background and look menacing. Unless we ask. Okay?"
   "I'm here because Richard asked me," Raina said. "He's an alpha male. I obey his orders."
   "Somehow I don't picture you obeying anybody's orders," I said.
   She flashed me a very nasty smile. "I obey the orders I want to obey."
   That I believed. I jerked a thumb at Gabriel. "Who called in him?"
   "I chose him. Gabriel is very good at intimidation."
   He was big, leather clad, metal studded, and had sharp, pointy teeth. Yeah, I'd say that was intimidating.
   "Your word that you'll stay in the background unless we need you."
   "Richard said we are to obey you as we would obey him," Raina said.
   "Great. Since you obey Richard only when it suits you, what does that mean?"
   Raina laughed. It had a hard, brittle edge to it. The kind of laughter that made you think of mad scientists and people locked too long in solitary. "I will let you handle it, Anita Blake, as long as you are doing a good job. Jason is my pack member. I will not let your squeamishness endanger him."
   I was liking this less and less. "I'm not squeamish."
   She smiled. "That is true. My apologies."
   "You're not a wolf," I said. "What are you getting out of this?"
   Gabriel smiled, flashing sharp, pointy teeth. He was still flipping through the pictures. "Marcus and Richard will owe me a favor. The whole damn pack will owe me one."
   I nodded. It was a motive I believed. "Give the pictures back to Ronnie. No smart remarks, just do it."
   He pouted, sticking out his lower lip. It would have worked better without the fangs. But he handed the pictures to Ronnie. His fingertips brushed her hand, lingering a little, but he didn't say anything. That had been what I asked. Were all shapeshifters so damn literal?
   His strange eyes stared at me. I suddenly remembered where I'd seen those eyes. Behind a mask in a film that I'd rather not have seen. Gabriel was the other man in the snuff film. I hadn't had enough sleep to hide the shock. I felt my face crumble with it and couldn't stop it.
   Gabriel turned his head to one side, like a dog. "Why are you looking at me like I just sprouted a second head?"
   What could I say? "Your eyes. I just figured out where I've seen them."
   "Yes." He moved closer, putting his chin on the back of the seat, letting me have a good look at those luminous eyes. "Where?"
   "The zoo. You're a leopard." Liar, liar, pants on fire, but I couldn't think of a better one, not this quick.
   He blinked, staring at me. "Meow, but that wasn't what you were thinking." He sounded very sure of himself.
   "Believe it or not, I don't give a damn. It's the best answer you're getting."
   He stayed there, chin indenting the upholstery. You couldn't see his shoulders, so his head looked disembodied, like a head on a pike. Accurate, if Edward found out who he was. And Edward would find out. I'd tell him, gladly, if it would stop any more of those films from being made. Of course, I wasn't sure it would stop them. They were Raina's brainchild. Supposedly, she didn't know about the alternate ending. Yeah, right, and I moonlighted as the Easter Bunny.
   Ronnie was staring at me. She knew me too well. I hadn't told her about the snuff film. Now I'd introduced her to two of the stars. Shit. We got out of the car into the bright, chilly winter sunlight. We walked up the sidewalk with a shapeshifter following at our backs that I had seen murder a woman on screen and feed from her still-twitching body. God help George Smitz if he was guilty. God help us all if he wasn't. Jason was missing. One of the newest pack members, Richard had said. If George Smitz didn't have him, who did?
   

34
   Raina grabbed my hand before it could touch the doorbell. Her grip had been very fast. I hadn't had time to react at all. Her nails were long and perfectly manicured with nail polish the color of burnt pumpkins. Those orange-brown nails dug into my wrist just enough to indent the skin. She let me feel the strength in that delicate hand. She didn't hurt me, but the smile on her face said she could. I smiled back. She was strong, but she wasn't a vampire. I was betting I could get to a gun before she could finish crushing my wrist.
   She didn't crush my wrist. She let go. "Perhaps Gabriel and I should go in the back way. You did say you wanted us to stay in the background." She was smiling and looking oh, so reasonable. The nail marks in my skin hadn't filled out yet.
   "I mean, look at us, Ms. Blake. Even if we say nothing, he can't ignore us."
   She had a point. "How will the two of you get in the back door if it's locked?"
   Raina gave me a took worthy of Edward, as if I'd asked a very stupid question. Was I the only one who didn't know how to pick a lock? "Fine, go to it."
   Raina smiled and walked off through the snow. Her auburn hair gleamed against the fox fur coat. Her high-heeled brown boots left sharp little prints in the melting snow. Gabriel trailed after her. The chains on his leather jacket jingled as he walked. His metal-studded cowboy boots smashed over Raina's daintier prints almost as if it were purposeful.
   "Nobody's going to mistake them for door-to-door salespeople," Ronnie said.
   I glanced at our jeans, my Nikes, her snow boots, my leather jacket, her long suede coat. "Us either," I said.
   "Good point."
   I rang the bell.
   We stood on the little front porch listening to the eaves drip, We were having one of those strange winter thaws that Missouri is famous for. The snow was all soft and fading like a snowman in the sunshine. But it wouldn't last. Getting this much snow at all in December was unusual here. We usually didn't get real snow until January or February.
   It was taking a long time for Mr. Smitz to come to the door. Finally I heard movement. Something heavy enough to be a person moving toward the door. George Smitz opened the door in a bloodstained apron over jeans and a pale blue T-shirt.
   There was a bloodstain on one shoulder, as if he'd lifted a side of beef and it had bled on him. He wiped his hands on his apron, palms flat, skin stretching along the fabric as if he couldn't get them clean. Maybe he just wasn't used to being covered in blood. Or maybe his palms were sweating.
   I smiled and offered him my hand. He took it. His palm was sweaty. Nervous. Great. "How are you, Mr. Smitz?"
   He shook hands with Ronnie and ushered us inside. We were standing in a little entryway. There was a closet to one side, a mirror on the opposite wall with a low table. A vase full of yellow silk flowers sat on the table. The walls were pale yellow and matched the flowers.
   "May I take your coats?"
   If he was a murderer, he was the most polite one I'd ever met. "No, thanks, we'll keep them with us."
   "Peggy always got on to me if I didn't ask for people's coats. 'George, you weren't raised in a barn, ask them if you can take their coats.' " The imitation sounded accurate.
   We stepped out into the living room. It was wallpapered in pale yellow with brown flowers done very small. The couch, the love seat, the recliner were all a pale, pale yellow, almost white. There were more silk flowers on the pale wood end table. Yellow.
   The pictures on the wall, the knickknacks on the shelves, even the carpet underfoot was yellow. It was like being inside a lemon drop.
   Either it showed on my face or George was used to it. "Yellow was Peggy's favorite color."
   "Was?"
   "I mean is. Oh, God." He collapsed on the pale lemon couch, face hidden in his big hands. He was the only thing in the room that didn't match the yellow lace curtains. "It's been so awful, wondering." He looked up at us. Tears glistened in his eyes. It was Academy Award caliber.
   "Ms. Sims said she had news about Peggy. Have you found her? Is she all right?" His eyes were so sincere it hurt to look into them. I still couldn't tell he was lying. If I hadn't seen the pictures of him with another woman, I wouldn't have believed it. Of course, adultery wasn't murder. He could be guilty of one and not the other. Sure.
   Ronnie sat on the couch, as far away from him as she could get but still rather companionable. Cozier than I was willing to be with the son of a bitch. If I ever managed to get married and my husband cheated on me, it wouldn't be me to go missing.
   "Please sit down, Ms. Blake. I'm sorry, I'm not being a very good host."
   I perched on the edge of the yellow recliner. "I thought you worked construction, Mr. Smitz. What's with the apron?"
   "Peggy's dad can't run the store by himself. He deeded it to her years ago. I may have to quit working construction. But you know, he's family. I can't leave him in the lurch. Peggy did most of the work. Dad's almost ninety-two. He just can't do it all."
   "Do you inherit the butcher shop?" I asked. We'd automatically gone into good cop, bad cop. Guess which one I was.
   He blinked at me. "Well, yes. I suppose so."
   He didn't ask if she was all right this time. He just looked at me with his soulful eyes.
   "You love your wife?"
   "Yes, of course. What kind of question is that?" He looked less sad and more angry now.
   "Ronnie," I said softly.
   She took the pictures out of her purse and gave them to him. The front picture showed him embracing the dark-haired woman. Peggy Smitz had been a blond.
   Color crept up his face. Not so much red as purplish. He slammed the pictures down on the coffee table without looking at the rest. They slid across the table, images of him and the woman in various states of undress. Kissing, groping, nearly doing it standing up.
   His face went from red to purplish. His eyes bulged. He stood up, his breath coming in fast, harsh gasps. "What the hell are these?"
   "I think the pictures are self-explanatory," I said.
   "I hired you to find my wife, not to spy on me." He turned on Ronnie, towering over her. His big hands balled into even bigger fists. The muscles in his arms bulged, veins standing out like worms.
   Ronnie stood up, using her five feet and nine inches to good advantage. She was calm. If she was worried about facing down a man that outweighed her by a hundred pounds, it didn't show.
   "Where's Peggy, George?"
   He glanced at me, then back to Ronnie. He raised a hand as if he would strike her.
   "Where'd you hide the body?"
   He whirled on me. I just sat there and looked at him. He'd have to come over or around the coffee table to get to me. I was pretty sure I could be out of reach. Or have a gun. Or put him through a window. That last was sounding better and better.
   "Get out of my house."
   Ronnie had stepped back out of reach. He stood there like a purple-faced mountain, swaying between us.
   "Get out of my house."
   "Can't do that, George. We know you killed her." Maybe knowwas too strong a word, but "we're pretty sure you killed her" didn't have the right ring. "Unless you really plan to start swinging, I'd sit down, Georgie-boy."
   "Yes, by all means sit down, George." I didn't look behind me to see where Raina was. I didn't think George would really hurt me, but better to be cautious. Taking my eyes off a guy who weighed over two hundred pounds sounded like a bad idea.
   He stared at Raina. He looked confused. "What the hell is this?"
   Ronnie said, "Oh, my God." She was staring behind me with her mouth open.
   Something was going on behind my back, but what? I stood, eyes all for George, but he wasn't looking at me anymore. I stepped away from him just to be safe. When I had enough distance to be safe. I could see the doorway.
   Raina was wearing a brown silk teddy, high heeled boots and nothing else. The fur coat was held open, the bloodred lining outlining her body dramatically.
   "I thought you were going to stay in the background unless I called for you."
   She dropped the fur into a fuzzy puddle on the floor. She stalked into the room, swaying everything that would move.
   Ronnie and I exchanged glances. She mouthed the words, "What's going on?" I shrugged. I didn't have the faintest idea.
   Raina bent over the silk flowers on the coffee table, giving George Smitz a long, thorough view of her slim backside.
   The color was draining from his face. His hands were slowly unclenching. He looked confused. Join the club.
   Raina smiled up at him. She stood up very slowly, giving George a good view of her high, tight breasts. His eyes were glued to her decolletage. She stood up, running her hands down the teddy, ending with a pass over her groin. George seemed to be having a little trouble swallowing.
   Raina walked up to him until she was just a finger's pull away from him. She looked up at him and whispered out of full, sensuous lips, "Where's Jason?"
   He frowned. "Who's Jason?"
   She caressed his cheek with her painted nails. The nails slid out of her skin long and longer, until they were great hooking claws. The tips were still the color of burnt pumpkins.
   She hooked those claws under his chin, putting them just enough in not to break the skin. "The tiniest bit of pressure and you'll have a howling good time once a month."
   It was a lie. She was still in human form. She wasn't contagious. All the color had drained from his face. His skin was the color of unbleached paper.
   "Where's your wife's body, Mr. Smitz?" I asked. It was a good threat worth more than one question.
   "I don't . . . don't know what you mean."
   "Don't lie to me, George, I don't like it." She raised her other hand in front of his face, and the claws slid out like unsheathed knives.
   He whimpered.
   "Where's Peggy, George?" She whispered it. The voice was still seductive. She might have been whispering, I love you, instead of a threat.
   She kept her claws under his jaw and lowered the other hand slowly. His eyes followed that hand. He tried to move his head down, but the claws stopped him. He gasped.
   Raina sliced through the bloody apron. Two quick, hard slices. The clothes underneath were untouched. Talent.
   "I . . . killed her. I killed Peggy. Oh, God. I shot her."
   "Where's the body?" I asked that. Raina seemed to be enjoying her game too much to pay attention to all the details.
   "Shed out back. It's got a dirt floor."
   "Where's Jason?" Raina asked. She touched claw tips to his jeans, over his groin.
   "Oh, God, I don't know who Jason is. Please, I don't know. I don't know." His voice was coming in breathy gasps.
   Gabriel walked into the room. He'd lost the jacket somewhere and wore a tight black T-shirt with his leather pants and boots. "He doesn't have the guts to have taken Jason or the others."
   "Is that right, George? You don't have the guts?" Raina pressed her breasts against his chest, claws still at his jawline and groin. The lower claws pressed into the jean fabric, not quite tearing.
   "Please, please don't hurt me."
   Raina put her face very close to his. Claws forcing him to stand on tiptoes or have his chin spitted. "You are pathetic." She shoved the claws into his jeans, tearing into the fabric.
   George fainted. Raina had to pull her hands away to keep from slicing him up. She kept a near perfect circle of jeans. His white briefs showed through the hole in his pants.
   Gabriel knelt by the body, balancing on the balls of his feet. "This human did not take Jason."
   "Pity," Raina said.
   It was a pity. Somebody had taken eight, no seven shapeshifters. The eighth had been Peggy Smitz. We had her murderer on the carpet with his fly torn out. Who had taken them, and why? Why would anybody want seven lycanthropes? Something clicked. The naga had been skinned alive. If he'd been a lycanthrope instead of a naga, a witch could have used the skin to become a snake. It was a way to be a shapeshifter with all the advantages and none of the bad stuff. The moon didn't control you.
   "Anita, what is it?" Ronnie asked.
   "I have to go to the hospital and talk to someone."
   "Why?" A look was enough for Ronnie to say, "Fine, I'll call the cops. But I drove."
   "Damn." I glanced up and caught sight of a car driving by on the street. It was a Mazda, green. I knew that car.
   "I may have a ride." I opened the door and walked down the sidewalk, waving. The car slowed, then double-parked beside Ronnie's car.
   The window whirred down at the press of a button. Edward sat behind the wheel, a pair of dark glasses covering his eyes. "I've been following Raina for days. How'd you spot me?"
   "Dumb luck."
   He grinned. "Not so dumb."
   "I need a ride."
   "What about Raina and her little leather friend?"
   It occurred to me to tell him that Gabriel was the other lycanthrope in the snuff film, but if I did that now, he'd go in and kill him. Or at least wouldn't want to take me to the hospital. Priorities.
   "We can either give them a ride home or they can take a taxi."
   "Taxi," he said.
   "My preference, too."
   Edward drove around the block to wait for me. Raina and Gabriel were persuaded to call a taxi to pick them up in front of another house. They didn't want to talk to the police. Fancy that. George Smitz came to, and Raina convinced him to confess to the police when they arrived. I apologized to Ronnie for deserting her and walked down the block to meet Edward. We were off to the hospital to talk to the naga. Here's hoping he'd gained consciousness.