There were at least four more agents surrounding Bill, and they got the shock of their lives, I think, when I appeared out of nowhere, tossing Rahim at Bill's feet. "Don't move!" I shouted compulsion. Rahim shrank back on the concrete. And don't send mindspeech, I sent, just as a precaution. Rahim's eyes went wide. He'd heard me. Three agents were all over Rahim Alif like ducks on a June bug, as Don used to say.

"You're going to answer all their questions, aren't you?" I laid further compulsion, grinning at Rahim. He nodded and swallowed—hard. Once Rahim was in handcuffs, I had four agents looking at me as if I were from outer space or something.

"One of our special agents," Bill snapped at them. "Now, get this scum out of here." The agents hauled Rahim off. He wasn't resisting, I'd told him not to move. I might have to take that off later, I guess. I'd said it aloud, and didn't realize it.

"Don't worry about it," Bill waved a hand.

"I think we should stick around," I told Bill, who looked like he'd just accomplished the impossible and was overjoyed about it. "We still don't know who's gonna show up in the vent and Rahim might not spill that nugget in time if he's connected."

"You think he might not be?" Bill's eyebrows rose in alarm.

"I think he is, but there's something about it that bothers me," I said. "And have those guys check out his backpack, too. I sure don't know what's in that."

"We got it," one of the agents held up a hand after Bill yelled at him. They'd taken time to open Rahim's backpack. Good thing I'd told him not to move. The backpack was a bomb, with the detonator on Rahim's wristwatch. A quick movement of his hand and we'd all have gone up. Bill's agents were placing the backpack on the ground and backing away quickly; Bill pulled Winkler and me toward the hotel while calling for a bomb squad at the same time. Winkler and I stood at the hotel's back door while Bill barked orders into his phone from close by.

"Lissa Beth, have I told you lately how much I love you?" Winkler was hugging me now, his eyes still glued to the backpack lying on the concrete behind the hotel.

"William Wayne Winkler, I don't think I've ever heard those words come out of your mouth, and most likely you don't mean them anyhow. We're not inside a bar at the moment, you know." I pulled away and had my hands on my hips as I scowled at Winkler. I knew perfectly well how he preferred to pick up women.

"Lissa, you don't know that." Winkler turned dark eyes on me then. He looked hurt. I just shook my head. He was married, even if it had been a shotgun wedding, and his estranged wife was pregnant with twins. Not something to jump in the middle of, no matter how good he looked or how many times he said he loved me.

"Winkler, I do love you. I do. But there are too many things between us and you know it," I said softly, watching Bill talk to his agents, who were now holding a handcuffed and shackled Rahim Alif. Bill asked for transportation for the prisoner, along with the bomb squad, and he held Rahim's watch in his hand. Poor Bill. I sure hoped the government was paying him for the job he did.

"Lissa," Winkler sighed as we waited for Bill's backup to show. Winkler wasn't willing to let the conversation between us die.

"Winkler, we can't. That's that," I said. "And the fact that the Council married me off to Gavin while I was gone hasn't helped matters, either. They own me. They control my life, Winkler. As far as I can tell, that's all there ever will be for me." They couldn't place compulsion, but they didn't really need to, did they?

"That's all there ever has been for you," Winkler was stroking the back of my neck gently.

"Winkler, don't make me cry," I removed his hand from my skin and it took all my strength to do it. The bomb squad arrived, followed by a van to take the prisoner. We watched as Rahim was loaded up and the bomb squad, all dressed in their special suits, went to examine the backpack. Bill walked towards Winkler and me, a huge grin on his face as soon as the van hauled Rahim Alif away. Bill had just pulled off the coup of the decade, I think. "I'm thirsty," I said, and turned to go back inside the hotel. Somebody had a bottle of water with my name on it, I think.

Bill was fascinated as he watched me drink water. Winkler had a soda and Bill had coffee as we sat in the hotel coffee shop. I wanted to go lie down; I was exhausted but afraid to rest. Afraid that whoever had made that hole in the ductwork would be coming back. I didn't know his purpose, or if he was connected to Rahim or not. I did have his scent—there had definitely been a vampire there. The other thing I'd smelled, though, was a rat. Or a mouse, maybe. Definitely some sort of rodent. Maybe the hotel needed to call pest control. Or—maybe it was something else. I drew in a huge breath as I stood up.

"What time is it in England, right now?" I asked.

"About eleven or so," Bill said. "Why?'

"Winkler, let me borrow your cell phone." I held out my hand. Winkler frowned at me but handed his latest version smartphone over anyway. I dialed Charles's number as quickly as I could.

"This is Charles," Charles was giving a guarded answer to the strange caller ID.

"Charles, this is Lissa," I said.

"Lissa, I'd recognize your voice anywhere," he said brightly. He was shocked to be getting a call from me at the moment; I was supposed to be asleep. Like the calm assistant he was, however, he didn't even comment.

"Charles, I need to know how quickly one of those shapeshifter vampires can turn," I was fidgeting while I talked. "Is there any way we can ask that Angelo guy?"

"Hold on, I think Rad is at the holding facility now. Let me see if I can get him." Charles set the phone down and went off somewhere. I waited. And then waited a little more. It was probably only a few minutes, but it felt like hours to me. Charles came back. "Rad forced Angelo to tell him—it only takes a few seconds for him to turn, Lissa. Why?"

"I think I smell a rat," I said. "Thanks, Charles." I hung up and handed Winkler's phone back.

"We may be dealing with a shapeshifter vampire," I said softly as I sat down at the table again. "Which means he may already be inside the hotel, sleeping in a little rat hole somewhere. Or a mouse hole. Maybe even a squirrel hole." Holy crap. That's what I'd smelled. I knew it was a rodent of some kind. I got up again and took off for the front desk. Winkler and Bill were behind me in seconds.

"Hello, may I speak with the manager," I asked the girl behind the desk.

"I can help you," the girl said stiffly. I needed information and she was having delusions of grandeur.

"I want to see the manager," Bill hauled out his ID. Well, that was effective. The girl ran into the office behind the desk. The manager was out in no time, the girl right behind him, looking frightened. The manager had a slight paunch, thinning hair and washed out blue eyes behind expensive glasses.

"What can I do for you?" He asked Bill. Yeah, the woman was the least important member of this party.

"My agent here has a question for you," Bill nodded in my direction. Now I had everybody's attention.

"Have you had any problems lately with rodents of any kind?" I asked. "Has anybody reported seeing a squirrel, maybe, or a rat?"

"Now, how the hell would a squirrel get in here?" The manager snapped.

"Answer the question." Compulsion dropped into my voice.

"We've had three reports of guests sighting a squirrel but we can find no evidence of this," the manager was forced to answer and he sure didn't want to. He kept a clean hotel, thank you very much.

"Where has the squirrel been sighted?" I asked.

"Two of the sightings on the second floor," the manager replied. "The third time was in a guest's bathroom."

"Thanks for your help," I said and took off. Bill nodded at the manager and followed close behind me. Winkler just followed Bill—he didn't give the manager the time of day. "When is sunset?" I asked as we rode up the elevator to the second floor.

"Seven-thirty," Winkler said, checking his cell. Yeah, that's not handy or anything.

"Bill, do you or your agents have anything that might pass for a squirrel cage?" I asked, and wondered how strong it needed to be. Did the squirrel have vampire strength when it was a squirrel? That was a scary thought. How could you fight a squirrel? The thought made me snicker.

"What?" Winkler asked.

"Ever fought with a squirrel, Winkler? I snickered again, imagining a werewolf chasing a squirrel—straight to the nearest tree. Bill was on his cell, asking somebody to bring a pet carrier or cage of some kind. If we found the squirrel, we didn't need to be chasing the damn thing all over the hotel after sunset, and looking like a bunch of idiots while we did it.

I turned us to mist in the hallway, sending Bill a mental note to grab the security recordings if there were any, just so we wouldn't be seen disappearing on YouTube. We went through the second floor rooms, searching everywhere until I caught the scent inside a bathroom.

He was cute as a squirrel; I'll give him that, with his fluffy squirrel tail curled around him as he slept. Tucked away behind a stack of towels on the lower shelf of the vanity, he slept the sleep of the vampire shapeshifter dead. Snatching him up, I turned all of us to mist again and flew toward our floor.

Bill's agents were there already, waiting for us. I dropped Winkler and Bill on the floor outside the bank of elevators and then turned back myself, still holding onto my little squirrel buddy. We ran for Bill's room, Winkler grabbed the carrier from an agent and I stuffed the squirrel inside it just as the sun went down.

Chapter 8

I'd never seen a rabid squirrel before, but this one came close. He was frantically scratching, clawing and biting at the door to his cage as soon as he woke. Bill and Winkler followed me to my room, and I opened the door to find an angry Gavin waiting on me. He couldn't say anything right then; there were too many others around. And the fact that I had a cage with a squirrel in it didn't help his temper any, I could tell. The squirrel was still banging around inside the carrier, chewing on the wire door of his cage, but so far, he hadn't broken through it. Thank goodness.

It's a vampire shapeshifter, I sent to Gavin, Tony and René. Tony and René had come through the connecting door the moment they'd heard our door open—I don't think they wanted to be anywhere near Gavin's temper, either. Poor Roff was cringing in a corner.

Bill sent his agents off—the speech/fundraiser was supposed to start at eight and we still needed to get down there in case there was anything else going on. René volunteered to stay in the room and watch the squirrel while the rest of us went toward the first floor. Gavin growled when I said I still wanted to go to the hole in the ductwork, just to see whether anyone else showed up. Tony was dressed for the do already, and Bill and Winkler jumped into suits really quick. I hadn't had a bath or a change of clothes and I didn't have time to do anything about it now. Tony and Winkler went with Bill; I turned Gavin to mist and we were away.

We listened to half of a boring speech, hovering as mist inside the duct before somebody showed up, and that somebody was female and human. Her black hair was pulled back tightly in a knot; she wore little makeup and was dressed in leather pants and a tight-fitting tank top. She was all business, no doubt about that, and I figured she'd done this many times before. A small black case was settled at her feet and when she knelt down to open it, I saw it held a gun that had been taken apart. She was prepared to reassemble the thing when Gavin and I materialized next to her.

Gavin had her throat in his hand so fast she didn't have time to squeak and her eyes were huge as she stared at his face. He was pissed, all right—his eyes were red and his fangs were out. "What are you doing here?" Gavin growled. "Answer me!" Compulsion was thick and mind-bending in his voice.

"Kill th-the m-mayor and the v-vice president," she stuttered. Yeah, I'd have been terrified, too, if I were in her place. Actually, I had been on the receiving end of Gavin's compulsion. I knew exactly what that felt like.

"Who sent you? Who do you work for?" Gavin demanded.

"Richter," the girl whispered. Gavin was squeezing her neck. He let up a little. "H-he was supposed to b-be here," the girl went on. I was calling her a girl, but she was in her thirties. That's what her scent told me, anyway.

"Bjorn Richter?" Gavin pulled the girl's face closer to his. She closed her eyes as he snarled in her face.

"Y-yeah," she could barely speak; Gavin's hand had squeezed again.

"Anyone else coming?" Gavin's voice was a dangerous purr, now. I was seeing the Gavin that went out and killed. He was in Assassin mode, no doubt about that.

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