“Well, this is just as anticlimactic as all get-out.”

Kelso panted at me. I patted his head, and obligingly stopped skulking around the building across the street from the Hotel Mad Goats, and ignored Kelso while he had a little personal time on the grass verge. I was a bit disappointed, to be honest, that there were no men in black cars parked obviously on the street, or street vendors who just happened to lurk outside the hotel’s entrance. Instead, it was business as usual with the bright lights of all the nightclubs and restaurants making the town positively glow, while a dull throb of bass came from a bar a few doors down. People dressed in varying degrees of fashion wandered up and down the streets, laughing, calling to one another, and generally creating a party atmosphere. There was nothing sinister about any of it.

I checked the cheap phone I’d picked up at the Nice station to see if Merrick had texted back a response to me telling him my new number, but the phone was just as uninspiring as the rest of the evening.

“And just when I was set to be Bond, Jane Bond,” I told Kelso when he was finished, using a bag from the Nice station shop to scoop up his offering and deposit it in a nearby trash can, before glancing around one last time.

No one cast so much as fluttered an eyelash our way. We peered in through the glass door of the hotel, but the lobby was empty. The same clerk was at the desk, though, and he looked just as bored as he had the first time I’d seen him.

“Hi,” I said, giving him a firm look and a friendly smile. “Bonjour.”

“Bonsoir,” he answered, pursing his lips slightly.

“I have here a note from my ... er ... boyfriend, Merrick Simon, authorizing me to use his room.” I handed over the piece of paper that I’d made Merrick write before I got on the train. “You see it asks you to give me a key of my own, and honor any requests of a room service nature. Speaking of which, my dog and I are starving. Do you still have my luggage?”

“Oui, madame.” He read the note and made a face that expressed polite disdain.

“Good. If you would bring those to my room—which is Merrick’s room—then I can feed my dog. I’d appreciate it if I could get dinner, too, if it’s not too late.”

He looked scandalized. “But it is only ten of the clock, madame! Of course food is available.”

“Sorry. Silly me and my American ways. I’ll just go up to the room and consult the room service menu, then.”

I will say this for Merrick—he might have picked out a weirdo hotel to stay at, but the accommodations were mighty fine. The room was a decent size, with a high, airy ceiling, a huge bed on a pedestal and swathed in mosquito netting, pale blue furnishings and accents, and a large balcony with a complete set of patio furniture.

We checked out the room, consulted the menu, and placed an order for scampi and salad, and a big plate of chopped beef for Kelso.

“Now, I want you to use your nose,” I told him. “If you smell anyone like Carlo and Giovanni, let me know. Bark, whine, do your best Lassie telling someone that Timmy is once again in the well—I always wondered why that kid was always falling in—just so you make it clear that you smell one of the baddies.”

Kelso tipped his head at me.

“You are so cute. I can’t believe someone just dumped you on the side of the road. Oooh. That must be dinner.”

We dined, and by the time I crawled into bed, and invited Kelso up to snooze with me, there was still no answering text from Merrick. I decided to prod him.

To: Merrick

Are you staying at a hotel? Are you finding the trail? Will you come back here? Warm me if you do because I put chair in front of door.

From: Merrick

I’ll warm you, all right.

To: Merrick

That was a typo, silly. Although can I add a hoobaby? I think I will. Hoobaby. Did you find the trail?

From: Merrick

No. Savian called in two sprites and another thief taker while he searches for your friend. The sprites should pick up the trail for us.

To: Merrick

Um. Do I want to know if sprites are little fairylike creatures with wings, and bags of fairy dust?

From: Merrick

No bags. They use saltshakers these days. Distributes the dust more efficiently.

I gaped at my phone in openmouthed surprise.

From: Merrick

Close your mouth. And go to sleep. I won’t be back in Nice until morning at earliest.

I gaped even more, finally turning to Kelso. “How on earth did he know my mouth was open?”

Kelso chose that moment to lick his genitals, and thus offered no insight worthy of consideration.

I fell asleep making a mental note to grill Savian about these sprites that Merrick mentioned, and whether they could make people fly.

The sound of a chair falling woke me up even before the light flashed on, instantly blinding me, and causing me to blink wildly while clutching the nearest weapon I could find, which just happened to be Kelso.

“Woof,” he barked, then promptly ruined the effect of killer guard dog by wagging his tail, and rolling onto his back when two men strolled into the room.

“Help!” I screamed, and, releasing the dog, threw myself across the massive bed to where both my cell phone and the hotel phone were sitting. “Help, help! Aidez-moi!”

Before I could blink, one of the two men was sitting on the side of the bed, pinning my arms down so I couldn’t reach the nightstand.

“Now, now, none of that, my sweet,” the man holding me said, his voice rich with a French accent. He had black hair that was swept back off his brow in movie star fashion, and a matching light dusting of beard stubble. He was dressed completely in black, and would probably be considered quite handsome, but I didn’t think he held a candle to Merrick’s austere gorgeousness. “We don’t want people to get the wrong impression, do we?”

“On the contrary, I think I do want them having the wrong idea. I want them all to have the wrong idea. Who are you?” I asked, squirming in the bed when I realized with my arms captured as they were, I couldn’t pull the sheet up. I was wearing a deliciously wicked nightgown made from a lovely apricot satin, and positively dripping with champagne lace. I knew it would have my father spinning in his grave, not just because of the price, but because it left little to the imagination where it concerned my front parts. “Let go of me! And stop staring at my breasts.”

“Really?” The man glanced from my chest to my face, laughter visible in his eyes. “You wear that, and don’t want me to look?”

“Let go of me,” I repeated, trying to kick my legs out from under the sheet at the same time I twisted my arms in his grip. “If you don’t, I’ll have my dog attack, and he goes for the noogies first. They taught him that at attack-dog school.”

“Would this be the same dog that is currently having his belly scratched?” The man loosened his hold on my wrists, allowing me to jerk my hands free. Instantly, I grabbed the sheet and hauled it up to my chin, glaring first at the man sitting next to me, then at the other man at the end of the bed, who was, indeed, scratching Kelso’s hairy white belly.

“What are you doing here? If you intend to kidnap me, I will warn you that I won’t go easy. I will scream the hotel down, and Kelso—for the love of heaven, dog, stop moaning in happiness. These are intruders! Kelso will attack if I give him the command to do so.”

“Do you know—” The man sitting next to me spoke in a companionable voice. “That sort of a threat simply makes me feel like a gag would be a good idea. What do you say, Ciaran?”

The other man slid a glance toward me and shrugged. “Not into that, myself, but if it makes you happy, I have no objections.”

I had gasped in horror when the first man mentioned a gag, but when the second man didn’t try to dispute such a heinous idea, I immediately switched my attention to trying to figure out how I could escape the room.

“It’s not my preference at all. At least, not for sex, which is what I assume you’re implying.”

Would it be better to try to knock the man next to me out with the lamp, and then call down to the desk for help, or should I smash him with the lamp, then run out of the room, racing down the hallway trailing expensive satin and lace in the best gothic heroine fashion?

“Assuming makes an ass out of you and me,” the second man said with the air of one delivering a bon mot. I stared at him in surprise. What sort of kidnapper trotted out the type of saying that a grandmother might use? The man didn’t seem to think anything of it, though. He just glanced around the room while still scratching Kelso. “Are you sure you got the room number right?”

Pickle juice! The plan for calling the front desk was clearly out, because if I bashed the man sitting on the bed on the head, Mr. Likes Dogs was sure to do something other than stand there and scratch Kelso’s belly.

It would have to be the bash and dash plan.

“Fairly certain, yes.” The man sitting next to me looked at me, his eyebrows high. “And who might you be, my lovely one?”

I took a deep breath as if I was going to answer him, instead suddenly lunging forward, shoving him off the bed at the same time I grabbed for the lamp and yelled, “Your worst nightmare!”

The lamp was bolted onto the table. I lay half off the bed, staring in horrified surprise at the lampshade that came off in my hand.

“Hardly that,” the man who had been with Kelso said, strolling over to stand over his buddy. “I know the sorts of nightmare Han has, and they don’t often include scantily clad redheads. What do you intend to do with that shade? Beat him about the head and shoulders with it? I applaud your intentions, but have doubts as to the effectiveness of the plan.”

“I ... the lamp ...”  I gestured toward the object in question with the lampshade. “It’s stuck on the nightstand.”

The man on the floor was laughing openly, wiping his eyes before accepting his friend’s hand and getting to his feet. “I can’t say that I’ve ever been beaten up with a lampshade, but if anyone can do it, my money is on you.”

“Well, poop nuggets! You don’t have to be so smug about it.” I thought about throwing the shade at the two men who were now looming over me, but decided that would do no good. Instead, I resolved to make the biggest scene ever when they tried to take me out of the room. Unless there was some other method of escape. My gaze roamed around the room, looking for inspiration.

“Now, perhaps you wouldn’t mind answering a question or two—” The second man paused, and frowned, then leaned forward a little and sniffed. “Han.”

Perhaps if I made it out onto the balcony, I could climb down the three floors?

“Hmm?” The man in black was brushing off the white dog hair that he’d no doubt picked up from his time on the floor.

“Take a whiff of her.”

Climbing down from the balcony didn’t seem very likely—hey! I turned my gaze back to the two men, and glared. “I beg your pardon! There is nothing to whiff about me. I had a long soak in the tub after Kelso and I had dinner.”

To my annoyance, the man named Han leaned forward, too, and took a couple of exploratory sniffs. I clutched the sheet to my chin again, and made mean eyes at them both.

“Holy shit,” Han said, his eyes widening.

“Language!” I snapped.

He looked curious. “Pardon?”

“Your language. There’s no reason to be so rude,” I said, and returned to my plan of escape. Maybe if I screamed and banged on the wall, the person next to me would complain, and the manager or someone would come up to see what was going on.

“So you smell it, too?” the first man, whose name I gathered was Ciaran, asked his friend. “I wasn’t just imagining it? It’s pretty faint.”

“You didn’t imagine it.” Han leaned forward and sniffed again. “It’s not terribly strong, but it’s there. Holy everlasting shit. Who’d have thought?”

“Right, that’s it,” I said, standing up right there on the middle of the bed. With a dramatic flourish, I pointed to the door. “Out! I’ve had enough of you both! It’s bad enough that Giovanni, or that man who threw me into the car like I was a sack of groceries, or Carlo, or whoever hired you to kidnap me, has sent you in here to ogle my frontage and scatter profanities like they were wildflower seeds, but you needn’t be insulting, as well!”

“I never insulted your breasts,” Han said, giving them a considering look. “On the contrary, they’re quite nice. Merrick is a lucky man.”

“I don’t care what you—” I stopped, the words finally filtering through my brain. “Wait, what did you say?”

“Merrick is a lucky man.” He smiled and sat on the edge of the bed again, and patted the sheets. “Make yourself comfortable, sweetness. We have a few things to talk about.”

Slowly, I knelt down, wary of him. “Talk about what?” A horrible thought occurred to me. “You haven’t done anything to Merrick, have you? Because if you’ve hurt him—”

I didn’t let the thought finish. I threw myself forward onto Han, knocking him down off the bed again, but this time I went with him, slamming my fist into his nose at the same time I tried to knee him in the groin. My knee missed the mark, but my fist hit true, and I had the pleasure of seeing blood on his face.

“I swear by all that is holy if you’ve hurt him—” I got my hands into his hair with the intention of slamming his head on the floor when I was summarily yanked backward.

“That will be quite enough,” Ciaran snapped, jerking me against his body when I lunged forward, intent on beating the truth out of Han. “Stop fighting me, woman. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You ass,” I yelled, snarling with frustration, and struggling to get free of Ciaran’s hold on my arms. “He hurt Merrick. No one does that and gets away with it!”

“I haven’t hurt Merrick in decades, but that’s only because he refuses to box me since I broke his nose sometime in the 1930s.” Han sat up, touching a finger to one nostril that was leaking blood.

“I remember that match,” Ciaran said. “Didn’t he break your collarbone and three fingers?”

Han got slowly to his feet and waved away the idea with a bloody hand. “Possibly. I don’t remember the exact details. Luckily, our fiery little morsel of delight didn’t quite break my nose, although it hurts like hell.”

“I am not your fiery morsel of delight.” I almost spat the words at Han. “I’m Merrick’s morsel, and so help me, if you have done anything to him—”

“That’s three times she’s threatened you,” Ciaran told his friend.

“Shut it.”

“And knocked you down twice.”

“I said shut it.”

“And she got in a punch.” Ciaran released me and gave me a shove that had me stumbling backward to the bed, where I sat down suddenly. He gave me a little nod. “You ought to be proud of yourself, Red. It’s not many people who say they have bested a Horseman.”

“I wasn’t bested,” Han said with a roll of his eyes. “You think I can’t defend myself from a woman?”

“Hey,” I said, the anger that had blinded me with rage slowly fading. It was as if my brain had gone into a reboot mode, and now it was done and back to normal function. “Horseman? You’re one of the Four Horsemen?”

“Two of them, actually.” Han nodded toward Ciaran, who was going through a leather satchel that held Merrick’s clothing. “The fourth is on his way, although what he’s going to make of a Beloved, I don’t know.”

I sat up straight at that and stared openmouthed (I was doing a lot of that lately, but there was a lot to be stunned by during this past week). “You know I’m a Beloved?”

“Yes, we know.” Ciaran looked at Han, who was now in the bathroom dabbing at his nose with a wet washcloth. “What comes as news is that you are Merrick’s.”

“I’m not a possession,” I said stiffly, and got to my feet, snatching up a T-shirt to pull over the nightgown. “Merrick and I have an—” I stopped, the word “understanding” on the tip of my tongue. But I couldn’t say it, because there was no real understanding. Merrick refused to accept the role I had in his life.

“You have a what?” Ciaran asked, pulling out his cell phone.

“None of your business. If you’re Merrick’s friends, what are you doing creeping around his room, scaring the grass balls out of me?”

“Grass balls?” Ciaran shook his head. “We were to meet him here. I take it he left you to tell us where he’s gone?”

“Not exactly ...” I bit my lip, not sure how much to tell them. “I’m sorry, but do you have some sort of identification saying you are Merrick’s friend? A Four Horsemen card or something?”

Han laughed when he emerged from the bathroom. “Now, there’s an idea for the future. We need identity cards, cousin.”

“You’re cousins?” I asked, looking from the dark Han to the strawberry blond Ciaran. The latter had a faint English accent, but sounded mostly American to me. “Real cousins, not just ... er ... Horseman cousins?”

“Yes, we are real cousins, although Ciaran is a good three hundred years older than me. Where is Merrick ... er ...”

“Tempest,” I said, wondering what I should do. “Tempest Keye. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you where Merrick is. For one, I don’t know, exactly. And for another, I don’t know that you are who you—”

“Just got a text from him,” Ciaran interrupted, tapping at his phone. “He says he’s a few hours north of here, and on his way back. He should be here before the sun is up.”

“Tell him we approve of his Beloved,” Han said, smiling at me.

I narrowed my eyes at him in return. He was just too smooth.

Ciaran tapped rapidly at the phone, then gave a short bark of laughter.

“What?” I said, suddenly worried. “What did he say?”

“I don’t think you want to know,” he said drily, showing his phone to Han, who snickered.

“I’m Merrick’s Beloved,” I said, jumping up and stomping over to him. “According to C. J. Dante’s books, that means he can’t lie to me, he can’t live without drinking my blood, and he basically has to do everything I say. Let me see what he said.”

Han and Ciaran exchanged glances before the latter flipped his phone around so I could see the face.

Don’t encourage her was Merrick’s reply.

“Mothballs,” I swore, and, before Ciaran could stop me, snatched his phone and typed in, If you don’t start being nicer to me, I’ll leave you and then you’ll be alone and have to drink blood from strange cows and you’ll die alone in your pretty house with no one to care about you.

Ciaran crossed his arms over his chest, and gave me a long-suffering look while I waited for Merrick’s response.

It wasn’t long in coming, but it was in Italian.

“What does this say?” I asked, showing the two men the phone.

“It says to give me back my phone.” Ciaran suited action to word, and tucked it away in his pants pocket. “Do not touch my phone again without my permission.”

“Or what?” I said, feeling a bit obstreperous. I didn’t like Merrick’s friends much. They seemed far too arrogant and unyielding. I disliked both attributes in a man ... except for Merrick. He managed both well. “You can’t do anything to me. I’m a Beloved.”

Ciaran gave me a slow smile. “Not yet you aren’t. Not fully. And until then ...” He stepped forward until he was a hairsbreadth away from me. “Until then, you’re entirely mortal.”

“I will not be threatened,” I said with a little spike of fear in my belly.

“I believe you just were,” Han pointed out.

“No, I wasn’t.” I lifted my chin and stared down Ciaran. “Because to be threatened, I have to give you the power to frighten me. And I’m not frightened. I might look weak to you because I’m a woman, and most men think women are weak, but you’re wrong. I have taken self-defense classes. I know how to shoot a gun. And I am an almost Beloved, which means if you did something to me, Merrick would be pissed.” The last was a shot in the dark based on C. J. Dante’s books, but I was hoping it was true.

“What makes you think I care about Merrick’s state of mind?” Ciaran leaned closer, his eyes all but firing lasers into my head, but I stood my ground, and after a few seconds of attempted intimidation, he turned away. “Bah. He is welcome to you and your self-defense classes. We have more important things to discuss.”

I smiled to myself, not wanting to gloat over the fact that he’d backed down, but pleased with myself nonetheless. Everything was going to be just fine, I decided. All I had to do was hope Savian could find Ellis so that I could rescue him, help track down my cousin, and convince Merrick he couldn’t live without me.

Easy-peasy, right?

I sighed. My pep talk to myself did nothing but make me feel just how far from perfect my life really was.