Doc nodded. “In that case, I am.” He gestured to the sofa and chairs in front of his desk. “Sit, please.”

Omur, a cheetah-shifter, sat last. From what little Doc knew of him, Omur didn’t seem like he’d ever been in Sinjin’s pocket. His words about Fritz confirmed that. “First, we want you to know how pleased we are that you were released. We were prepared to break you out.”

“I’m not sure how helpful that would have been to the situation, but thanks.”

Omur nodded. “We also feel like the time has come to make a statement about the mayor’s curfew.”

“Club numbers were almost half tonight.” Barasa was the pride’s chief physician. The tiger-shifter sighed, clearly frustrated. “Folks are afraid to come out.”

Doc leaned his forearms on his desk. “I hear you. It’s not good for business and it’s not good for the morale of the pride. Have you put any kind of statement together?”

Omur shrugged. “We didn’t want to overstep our—”

Doc held a hand up. “It’s for the good of the pride, isn’t it?”

They nodded.

“Then it’s not overstepping any bounds to get something together. I don’t know how Sinjin would have looked at it, but I’m guessing a lot differently. Forget Sinjin. He’s gone. And I don’t do things like he did. You’ve got to get that.” He took a breath and made brief eye contact with both of them. “Things have been tense since I’ve taken over. Just the circumstances under which I got here have caused cracks in the pride’s loyalties. Fritz and Brutus are proof of that.”

Omur steepled his fingers. “Until that situation is resolved, it won’t get better.”

Doc leaned back in his chair. “The vampire Malkolm took my place tonight.” He pointed at the TV. “If not for him, I’d still be chained in the middle of the square. My final word on the Brutus situation is that Malkolm’s act tonight pays his debt. Understood?”

“Understood,” they spoke the word almost in unison.

A new sense of confidence spread through Doc. “Before we work on this statement, there’s another thing I need to talk about.”

Their gazes stayed on him, filled with expectation.

He swallowed and prepared himself for the fight that was sure to come. “I want to divorce Heaven.”

By the time Lola got home, most of her staff was in bed, the same place she planned to be as soon as she scrubbed off the day’s grime. Whatever sleep she could get would have to suffice. In a few hours, she’d have to be up again to deal with the new challenges as they arose. Fallout from the curfew would be a big part of that. She sighed. The job never got easier, but the curfew was a step in the right direction. Both the othernatural and human communities would learn to either get along or pay the price if they wanted to live in her city. They’d also learn she was not afraid of either of them.

As quietly as she could, she made her way to the master suite. She flipped the light on with one hand as she struggled to get out of her suit jacket with the other. Shedding it, she turned around and almost screamed. Her hand went to the gun in her waistband. She brandished it at the intruder. “Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?”

“Mayor.” The well-dressed vampire sitting in her reading chair nodded in greeting. Behind him, the sheers waved gently where the sliding door was still open a few inches. “I am Dominic Scarnato.” Even without the name, his accent gave away his nationality. He stood with more than the usual vampire grace. “I apologize for my intrusion, but we have business to discuss and your curfew makes it otherwise impossible for me to meet with you.” He pointed at the gun she currently aimed at him. “That endangers you far more than it does me.”

She held the gun steady anyway, a triumph considering the adrenaline coursing through her veins. “What business could we possibly have to discuss?”

“My business. I own the nightclub Seven. You may have heard of it. The tax revenues alone probably pay city hall’s electric bill.”

Her hand started to shake. “You… you’re the one who turned my daughter into a blood whore.” She thrust the gun forward. “She worked for you. She died because of you.”

He held his hands up. “Those who choose to become comarré do so of their own free will. I am not responsible for their decisions. And those who work for me are very well cared for, I assure you.” His eyes flashed silver. “And the comarré are not whores.”

“You don’t even know her name, do you?”

He frowned. “Julia. You have my sincere regrets at her loss. I know that pain.” He touched his chest. “It stays with you for the rest of your life.”

“Really,” she snapped. “Who’ve you lost? All the victims you’ve made a meal of?”

“Madam Mayor, I do not kill for my sustenance. That is the whole purpose of the comarré. They provide a valuable service to my kind.” He paused, his face going stony. “For your information, the pain I feel is for one I loved very deeply. One for whom I gave up everything. One who was once comarré herself. Maris Lapointe.”

Lola held tightly to the gun but let her hand fall to her side. “Chrysabelle’s mother?”

“Si.”

Her mind immediately went to Preacher’s professions of love for Julia. “Does that happen often? A vampire falling in love with a comarré?”