44

I DID TRY sniffing Travis's neck, but he hit my radar as wounded antelope. Since I didn't want to rip his throat out, I had to back off. Touching Pierce's hand had been an electrifying experience. Shit. I made Noel take Travis to the hospital room in the back, so he could shift and heal the damage. I had to give my most solemn word that I would not bond with either Pierce or Haven, and bring disaster to their pride, while they were resting. I promised. I meant it. I wasn't sure how to keep the promise, but I did mean it.

We all went to sit in the living room while we tried to get through our list of metaphysical emergencies before we had to get dressed for the ballet.

"We are running out of time, Jean-Claude," Auggie said.

"Ma petite was able to free Requiem of an ardeur-related compulsion earlier today. We had thought to use the same technique to free you, Augustine. Are you saying that your freedom from the slavery of the ardeur can wait?"

"I need to send Octavius to fetch my clothes for this evening. He has expressed"--Auggie smiled--"reservations about my being here without him at my back. I came thinking I'd get my ashes hauled, and make a smash and grab on the local lions. Still might do the whole lion thing, but the rest didn't work out like I planned."

"You are not going to do the whole lion thing," I said. I was on the love seat sitting between Micah and Jean-Claude. Nathaniel and Damian were on the floor at our feet. Damian was touching my leg, and that one touch helped me think. He'd promised not to do anything but help me stay calm. There would be a learning curve on Damian's new power level, too. The grade on all of it seemed pretty damn steep.

Jean-Claude patted my knee, as if warning me to be calm. I was calm; Damian's touch almost guaranteed that. I was also determined that our invitation to the Master of Chicago was not going to rain bad stuff all over our local werelions.

"Most of the werelions in the Midwest owe allegiance to my pride."

"It's not your pride," I said, even if your animal to call is the Rex of that pride. "It's his pride, or hers."

"His," Auggie said.

"Fine, but that doesn't make it yours."

Auggie glanced at Jean-Claude. "She believes that. Doesn't she know the law?"

"Ma petite knows that in the vampire world all that my servants own is mine."

I had known it, but I hadn't made the logic jump. "It can't be your pride, because if something happened to your lion to call, then you couldn't hold the pride. If you can't hold the group without the help of someone else, then it's not yours, Auggie. Your lion dies and your hold on his pride dies with him."

"Is that a threat?" he said, softly.

Damian squeezed my calf, and Jean-Claude squeezed my knee. Micah moved closer to me, sliding his arm across my shoulders, so that he was holding me and Jean-Claude, really. It didn't seem to bother anyone but me.

"Not yet," I said.

Damian laid his head in my lap. Jean-Claude stroked my leg, his way of saying, Be careful. Micah was as close as he could get to me. Nathaniel just cuddled more solidly between Jean-Claude and me, wrapping his arm around my leg, but laying his head on Jean-Claude's knee. I'd never seen him do that before to the vampire. Jean-Claude petted his hair, absently, like you'd stroke a dog, as if it were very everyday. It wasn't everyday, and I realized that Nathaniel was helping us negotiate. Auggie had proved that he liked men, maybe not as much as he liked women, but still... He'd remarked on Nathaniel's hair, made a pass at Micah. Nathaniel wasn't flirting, he was lying with his body. Lying that he and Jean-Claude had a closer relationship than they did. Would it bother Auggie? And if it did, which way would it bother him? Would it disturb him because it's guy-on-guy sex, or would he be jealous? Hell, it might bother him both ways. A lot of men seemed conflicted about that sort of thing.

"Did you say that most of the prides in the Midwest owe you allegiance?" Micah said.

"Yes."

"Vampires aren't allowed to wage war on territories that don't touch their own," Micah said.

"I haven't done anything to any other Masters of the City. Vampire law only covers how we treat each other's animals to call. My lions haven't tried to take over any land where the Master of the City had lions as his, or her, animal to call." He looked at me, as if I'd like the "her" comment. Frankly, I was liking less and less about Auggie.

"So as long as you only take over prides that aren't owned by vamps, you're in the clear?" I said.

He nodded.

"If we hadn't invited you into our territory, how would you have taken over Joseph's pride?"

"Sent Pierce and Haven down on their own."

"Then what, kill Joseph, and take over?"

"Joseph and his brother, yes."

"But if lion is one of my animals to call, then since everything that I own belongs to Jean-Claude, you have to leave Joseph and his people alone, because they'll belong to another master vampire."

"I think you've already chosen a lion to call, Anita. Your reaction to Haven was pretty intense."

"My reaction to Pierce is intense, too. I haven't chosen between the two of them. The fact that they belong to you may be why I'm reacting to them. Or, like you said, my lioness is looking for something a little more dominant."

"Justin's coming to the ballet with us tonight," Jason said, from the chair near the love seat.

Everyone looked at him. "Joseph's brother?" I made it a question.

Jason nodded, then winced, pulling the collar of his leather jacket a little away from his neck. It wasn't that cold in here, but he was still wearing his leather jacket. Why? If Auggie and his people hadn't been there, I would have asked. Jason had said something about a report he had to make. What report?

"Take off the jacket, wolf," Pierce said. "We can smell the wound."

Jason looked at Jean-Claude. He nodded. Jason took the jacket off. He then turned so we could all see his neck. It was either the biggest hickey I'd ever seen, or something had tried to tear out half of his throat.

I tried to rise, but all the men pressed down just enough to let me know, Don't. Jason came to us. Something had bitten him, but the teeth marks were like nothing I'd ever seen. "What the hell did that?"

Jason looked at his master.

"Not everyone who wishes to join us wishes to be your pomme de sang, ma petite. Some of the masters have brought people that they simply wish to trade. Jason was investigating one of them." His voice held so little inflection that I knew it was the truth, but not all the truth.

"Hope the sex was good," I said.

He grinned at me. "It was."

Meng Die made a disgusted noise. She was leaning decoratively near the white fireplace.

"I thought you didn't pimp your people out, Jean-Claude," Auggie said.

"I didn't order Jason to sleep with anyone. I asked him to get to know them better. His decision to have sex was just that, his decision."

"What did you fuck?" Pierce asked. "I've never seen a bite like that."

Jason flashed a grin in their direction. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Auggie reached up and laid a hand on Pierce's where it lay on the couch back. A look of near pain passed over Pierce's face. What did Auggie do when he touched his lions like that? Whatever it was, it wasn't pleasant. It reminded me of a shock collar for a dog.

The fact that Auggie didn't want Pierce to admit he didn't know something meant we were still negotiating. Negotiation was over as far as I was concerned.

"Is Justin meeting us here?" I asked.

"Yeah," Jason said. He settled back on the floor, on the other side of Jean-Claude, because Meng Die had taken his chair. London was in the chair closest to me. Only Requiem had taken a chair closer to Auggie's group. Or maybe he was farther away from me. Who knew with Requiem?

"If you liked Joseph's brother he would have already been on your radar, Anita. Don't let misplaced emotion trap you with someone not worthy of you," Auggie said.

"I decide who's worthy of me."

"He is the strongest dominant the pride has, but he is not as strong as your Ulfric is. He is not the survivor that your Nimir-Raj is. Would you truly bind yourself to someone who does not lead his group, Anita? Your power chooses only the strongest."

"It chose me," Nathaniel said, from where he cuddled on the floor.

"Yes," Auggie said, "there must be more to you than I can see."

"Perhaps it is love," Jean-Claude said.

Auggie looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Perhaps what ma petite needs is not strength of arms and will alone. Perhaps there are other needs to be met."

Auggie smiled, and for a minute he was the friendly guy who had first stepped into our living room. "You are a romantic at heart, Jean-Claude. It was always your weakness."

"And my strength," Jean-Claude said.

Auggie shook his head. "I gave up such things long ago."

"How sad for you."

The two vampires stared at each other. It was a long, long look. It was Auggie who turned away, and put his gaze on me. "You come off as hard, but you're a romantic, too, Anita. I don't think you have it in you to bind yourself to someone just for power and safety. That's what we did, Jean-Claude and me. We chose our servants, and our animals, for power. There are dozens, hundreds that come up on the radar over the centuries, but you wait. You wait until you are either desperate enough for the choice to be forced, or you find just the right one to make you powerful." He motioned at all the men. "Since you don't choose, your power chooses for you. I must say, it's got high standards. Since you don't know how to force your power to choose the one you want it to choose, I don't think you have the ability to force your power to choose."

I couldn't keep my nervousness down. My pulse rate sped up, just a little, and I had to swallow. Auggie would notice it. He would know that his little talk had hit home. He was right. I'd never been able to force the ardeur to choose, or not to choose.

"She forced the ardeur to free me," Requiem said, from his chair.

"She fought her beast not to choose Haven," Micah said.

"I think ma petite is finding her footing with her powers, Augustine."

"Do you truly wish to waste such a powerful alliance with someone who does not rule a pride?"

"Justin is part of Joseph's male coalition," I said. "They rule the pride together."

"But he is still not the dominant to match your wolf or your leopard king, Anita. It seems a shame to settle for a prince when you've only bedded kings."

I didn't know what to say to that. Because he was right, in one way; Justin didn't do it for me, or he hadn't before this. Maybe my lioness would like him better than I would? Part of me was hoping yes, and part of me didn't want to have to choose at all. If I was a master vampire then I should be able to choose, or not choose. If my power was more vampire than lycanthrope, then I had choices. If my power was more fuzzy than dead, then I was screwed.

45

WE GOT DRESSED in record time. I just gave myself over to the makeup and the primping. There wasn't time for me to argue. The outfit looked totally impractical, but the corset top was a dancer's corset. It meant it couldn't be laced as tight as Jean-Claude might like it, never tight enough to impede breathing, or movement. Jean-Claude told me I'd see similar corsets on the dancers tonight. The shoes had been dyed to match the shiny black of the dress, but they, too, were dancers' high heels. Made for ballroom dancing, actually, not ballet. When I'd seen the open-toed sandals I'd protested, hell no. There was no way to dance in them, I'd said, but damn me, Jean-Claude had been right. The shoes were actually comfortable.

The corset's piping was made of tiny diamonds, honest-to-God diamonds. The necklace he put around my neck was platinum and more diamonds. I'd almost asked how much money I was wearing, but decided that I really didn't want to know. It would have just made me more nervous, and that I did not need.

Jean-Claude's opera coat flowed like an elegant black cloak, but much more modern, with a short raised collar to frame his face, and the gleaming white of his shirt collar. The cravat at his neck was pierced by a platinum and diamond stickpin to match my necklace. His vest fit him like a glove because it was laced up the back; a corset vest. When he first suggested a corset top for me, I'd made the mistake of saying, "I'll wear a corset when you do." You'd think I'd know better by now. He'd just smiled and said yes. In fact he'd commissioned vests of various styles for all the men who would wear one. Impeccably tailored black slacks and gleaming black dress shoes completed his outfit. Oh, and a scattering of diamonds across the vest like stars tossed across a night sky. When I'd asked him why not make his vest have the same diamond pattern as my corset, he'd replied, "It is not a prom, ma petite."

All the other men were in black tuxes, some with tails, some just tailored.

The only difference was the color of the vests or jewelry accessories. It was damned subdued for one of Jean-Claude's parties.

The stretch limo had dropped us at the door, all eight of us. Which was why we needed the stretch. We'd done the gauntlet of flashing lights, cameras, microphones. They could call it a red carpet. It always felt like a gauntlet to me. Something to be endured, except instead of running as fast as you could, you had to smile and answer questions.

Jean-Claude always fielded the yelled questions and photo opportunities like a pro. I'd gotten better at clinging to his arm, and not glaring at the cameras. Occasionally you'd even catch me smiling. Everyone else was treated like entourage. You didn't yell questions at the entourage.

Normally, I enjoyed the Fox Theatre. It had been built in the 1920s as a movie theatre, but no movie theatre I knew had Chinese Foo dogs with glowing eyes at the bottom of a sweep of marble staircase. The interior was lush and gilt, full of carved Hindu gods, and animals from anywhere that qualified as exotic. Normally, I loved gazing at it all. Tonight, it was shelter from the storm.

We entered at the side entrance, the Fox club entrance. It was private, with valet parking, and a nice restaurant if you made reservations. People and corporations paid thousands of dollars a year to have a reserved box at the theatre. To my knowledge Jean-Claude didn't have a permanent box, but for tonight he had two reserved. The Fox club box seats actually ran out of room before they ran out of VIPs to seat. Jean-Claude had said that some of the visiting masters were actually on the floor with the peons, but in a special reserved front row section, along with many local celebrities.

The media frenzy might have been less if one of the Masters of the City coming hadn't been the Master of Hollywood, and his entourage. Hollywood likes Hollywood, and they had followed him out here. Someone had said that his newest girlfriend was some hot young star, in a new hit series I'd never heard of. When you work an average of sixty to a hundred hours a week, you don't watch much television. Funny, that. Apparently, the media was here as much for her as for anyone else. She must have been a very hot property indeed.

There were too many vampires in the VIP section to have dinner beforehand. It raised too many questions about what everyone would eat. Jean-Claude had avoided the problem by simply saying the restaurant was closed for that night. The management of the Fox was happy with that. Yeah, vamps were legal, but St. Louis is still part of the Bible Belt. No one was sure how people would take it if someone got pictures of vampires feasting on humans in the Fox club theatre. Just better to avoid the problem. Once we got to Danse Macabre, all bets would be off, but then people expected decadence at a vampire-run dance club. Not only expected it--were disappointed if they didn't see at least some salacious activities. I knew for a fact that some of the "naughty" impromptu scenes at Danse Macabre were very planned. The trick was to give the customers a thrill, not scare them to death, or make them run for a cop.

We finally got to our seats, Jean-Claude and I on one side of the little table in the middle, and Damian and Micah on the other side. Asher, Nathaniel, Jason, and Requiem took the box next to ours. Claudia and Lisandro, both in the bodyguards' black-on-black tuxes, stood near the boxes. Wicked and Truth were in the hallway leading into the box area. We had other bodyguards scattered throughout, because we'd refused to let the visiting masters bring more than two guards per, which meant we had to make certain they were safe. There were uniformed cops everywhere outside, as there usually were when you had a big event at the Fox. But it was more tonight; no one in St. Louis wanted some right-wing crazy to kill one of the master vamps in front of a television crew. No one wanted anyone to die period, but let's be honest, no one wanted that much bad publicity. Us, either, so there were wererats, werehyenas, werewolves, scattered throughout the building. The main difference was that the police were watching for hatemongers trying to kill the monsters, and our guards knew that the other job was to make sure none of the visiting monsters got out of hand. Jean-Claude was pretty sure they'd behave, but none of us was betting someone's life on it. Nor was he willing to risk ruining all this amazingly good publicity for vampires by some incident now at the last performance. Best behavior tonight, or else.

I was shielding as hard as I could. I did not want my abilities, not as Jean-Claude's servant, necromancer, or whatever the hell I was turning into, getting in the way. But some things are too powerful to hide from. Some things are too much a part of who you are, not to feel them. The lights dimmed, and I felt... vampires. Felt them through the shields. Felt them through Damian's sudden reach across the table, so that he could help me shield, help me control myself, help me not be overwhelmed. Jean-Claude had my other hand, but the tension in him wasn't helpful. He was excited.

I took my hand out of his with a smile, and clung to Damian. I needed something cold and calm, not nervous and excited. Damian wasn't excited, he was scared. I'd been nervous about all the masters coming to town, but not the ballet, itself. It was just a ballet, just a performance. The reactions of the two vampires let me know that maybe I should have worried about it more.

I glanced at Asher sitting so close in the next box. His froth of hair hid most of him, but there was a tension to him, too. What was about to happen?

I heard something, though that wasn't exactly it. It was as if I heard it with something deeper inside my head than my ears, or maybe felt it, and my mind could only translate what was happening into sound. I don't think they actually made any noise, but I heard a soft rustling, almost like birds.

I dropped the tiniest edge of my shields, like peeking over it in the midst of battle. I was holding hands with a vampire, surrounded by them, and sometimes when I was that wrapped up in vamps it was hard to sense other vampires. But not this one; this one was someone I didn't know. It was vampire, but unlike anything that had ever touched me before.

I glanced at Micah on the other side of Damian. Micah was shaking his head like a fly was buzzing him. He looked at me. "What's happening?"

I shook my head. "Vampire shit." Beyond that I truly didn't know. I looked over and found Nathaniel's face peaceful, waiting, as the lights dimmed. Jason's face lost its fight, too. I glanced at Damian, and his eyes were wide, a little panicked almost, then his face went peaceful, as well. I looked at Jean-Claude. He whispered, "He will try to make humans of us all."

I actually understood what he meant by that. The vampires at Guilty Pleasures and Danse Macabre would sometimes use group mind tricks to make performers appear in the midst of the human audience. Magic. Whatever vampire was doing this was trying not just to roll the human audience, but everyone. He was trying to cloud the minds of the other master vamps, so that his "performers" could appear like magic.

The theatre had gone eerily silent. There was no rustling, no movement below us. The humans had all had their minds rolled. Next would come the wereanimals, and then the vampires would fall. At least most of them would. I had never felt anything like this.

I drew my hand out of Damian's; he didn't seem to notice. He just kept staring straight ahead. I glanced behind at our bodyguards, and found Claudia staggering. Lisandro was just standing there, all peaceful. Shit, so much for the guards.

I looked back at Micah. His eyes were starting to unfocus. I grabbed his hand, and thought, No. No way. I pulsed a little power down his hand. My leopard flowed down my hand like warm water, spilling over his skin. He looked at me, eyes wide.

"Power up our cats," I whispered.

He nodded, closed his eyes, and I felt my leopard slip away, and follow his down the metaphysical lines to the other leopards. We had two leopards among the bodyguards.

"Ma petite, what are you doing?"

"Fighting back," I said.

My leopard began to swell upward, and I reached out to Richard. He was there in the crowd below with his date, a prof from a local college. He couldn't afford to be outed, but we couldn't afford not to have him here. He'd impressed the hell out of the prof by having tickets to tonight's gala event. I brushed his energy, and he whispered through my mind, "What's happening?"

I called my wolf, and the leopard quieted, but I could feel Micah reaching out further, finding the leopards. My wolf rose, and I saw through Richard's eyes. His human date stared at the stage, waiting, unseeing. My wolf touched his, and I thought what I wanted him to do, and I felt his energy, our wolves circle out from him, seeking. Where our energy touched, the wolves woke.

Having the vamp roll the Masters of the City was impressive, but rolling the guards was dangerous. I didn't like that at all. I looked behind, and found Claudia still struggling. She fell to her knees, struggling hard not to lose herself to the power. I had no tie to the rats, but it couldn't hurt to try. Besides, my wolf was starting to rise. I didn't need that.

I got out of my chair and knelt beside Claudia. Her eyes were terrified. She reached out. I grabbed her hand. I thought, Power. Her eyes cleared, and she gripped my hand so hard it almost hurt. Suddenly I felt Raphael. Not like I could feel Richard, or Micah, but I felt his power, like a scent on the air. Through Claudia's hand, his rat's hand, I offered power. Power enough to free his rats, who were most of our guards.

He took it, used it, and I felt it like a rock thrown into a pool. Out and out, leopards, wolves, rats, awake, alert. Pissed.

If there'd been a werehyena close enough, I'd have tried with them, too. Helping the rats had quieted my beasts. The power was awake, but they weren't trying to tear me apart. We were all waiting for the big, bad vampire to appear. We knew he was out there. We could feel him.

Jean-Claude's power flexed, suddenly and so strongly that it bent me over, nearly sent me to the floor. Claudia caught me. "You okay?"

I nodded.

Jean-Claude was waking up his vampires, but he needed my necromancy to do it. He'd borrowed without asking, but I was okay with that. There wasn't going to be time to ask nicely about a lot of things tonight.

I glanced at the box on the other side, away from Asher's box. It was Samuel and his family. Samuel looked at me. Thea glanced in our direction. His sons were lost to the magic, as were his two merpeople at his back. Whoever this was, was going to succeed at rolling everybody but the masters themselves and maybe one or two powerful servants. Impressive power, that. Impressive and scary.

Claudia helped me stand, and the curtains opened behind us. It wasn't Truth or Wicked, but a vamp I didn't know. He was tall, and meaty in an athletic sort of way, not fat, just physically bigger than I liked my men. Tall and broad the way Richard was, but unlike Richard, this one knew he was big and liked it. He moved in a glide that was already a kind of dance. Most of his body was nude, just enough covered by his leotard to not get him arrested. His upper body was beautiful even by my standards. Careless blond curls covered to just below his ears, framing a face that was more handsome than beautiful. He put all that beauty into his face so that the gaze of it was like a blow, or that's what he tried for. Claudia made a small, helpless sound. He'd rolled her, that quick.

I dug my fingers into her arm, and that didn't free her. I looked into his pale eyes, and felt the weight of his power. It said, See me, I am beautiful, I am desirable, you want me.

I shook my head, and had to flex power like unsheathing a blade not to fall into that gaze. Auggie hadn't been able to roll me, but this one could. I actually dropped my gaze, rather than fight it. The moment my eyes weren't being bored into by that pale gaze, I could think. Jesus, he was good.

I saw his hand coming. Claudia tried to stop him. I think he just looked at her, and she stopped moving. Lisandro tried, too, but again, a glance, and they seemed confused. The hesitation was enough. He had the time he needed to touch me. Touch makes it all worse, or better. He wanted me to look up, and I did.

I met his gaze, and again, his face was like a beautiful weapon. He leaned over me, his face painted with the stage makeup. He leaned in, as if he'd kiss me, and some part of me that was still sane knew that if he kissed me, it would be bad.

I smelled Jean-Claude's cologne, and the scent of Richard's neck. Jean-Claude had opened the marks wider. It made me startle, and take a step back, away from the blond.

I reached backward, and Jean-Claude took my hand. The touch of my master, and I was proof against the pale-eyed blond.

He smiled, an arrogant curl of lips. The smile said it all: I almost had you. He was right. He had almost had me. And still there was a breathing presence of power out there in the theatre, flowing over the crowd, and that power wasn't the blond in front of us. There was still something even more powerful waiting in the wings. Something even more powerful that we'd invited to our town. Sweet Mary, Mother of God, what had we done?

46

THE BLOND FLUNG himself over our heads, and out into the air. The air was full of vampires. They had flown up and over the audience, and in that instant the vampire let them go. He released his hold on the audience and they were left gasping, shrieking. Not at the fact that their minds had been messed about with, because they didn't know that, but at the vampires suddenly appearing above them like magic.

Jean-Claude helped me back to my seat. I needed the help; my knees were shaky. I looked around at all of us, and only the vampires hid their fear. The rest of us were wide-eyed and a little pale.

I leaned into Jean-Claude and whispered, "Did they do that every show?"

He shook his head, and spoke mind-to-mind. Yeah, maybe some of the other masters could overhear us, but we knew for dead certain they'd hear us whisper. "He bespelled the humans and some of the wereanimals, but he did not try for the vampires. He left them alone."

"Why now," I whispered, "why tonight?"

Of course, he didn't know. That didn't make me feel any better, strangely.

Claudia asked permission to check on the other guards. I gave it. I, like Claudia, wanted to see for sure that the other guards were up and running.

Lisandro was cursing very softly under his breath. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," over and over, like he said it with every breath.

He'd taken the words right out of my mouth.

The vampires danced on the air, at least a dozen of them. They defied gravity, and made it look effortless. It was beautiful, but I couldn't enjoy it. I was too scared.

The blond hovered in front of our box for a moment. He blew me a kiss. I smiled sweetly and gave him a one-fingered salute. He laughed, and flew away.

Other vampires flew low over the crowd, and they blew kisses at other women and other men. There were three or four women among them. It was sort of the reverse of most ballet companies, where there seemed to be more women than men.

The drapes at the back of our box opened, and it was Auggie. I got a glimpse of Pierce and Octavius on the other side of the curtain with Wicked and Truth. Auggie didn't look any happier than I felt.

He leaned over us, smiling, pretending he'd just come to say hi. "He did not do this in Chicago."

"Who didn't? Who's doing this?" I asked.

"Merlin," Auggie said, "troupe leader, dance master. The blond is Adonis. He used to be Belle's. Now he belongs to Merlin."

I felt that power breathing back on the air, like the smell of smoke drifting through the forest, when you don't know yet from which direction the flames will come, but you know they're on the way.

Auggie touched my bare shoulder. His power slid over my skin like a fall of silk. He offered his hand to Jean-Claude. "You rolled me; use it now."

Jean-Claude took his hand. To a casual viewer, they were shaking hands. Auggie's hand tensed on my bare shoulder, touching the edge of scars where a vamp had once worried at my collarbone like a dog with a rat. I wasn't entirely sure what Auggie meant for us to do. But Jean-Claude was sure, and you only need one driver on the metaphysical bus. Jean-Claude opened the marks between him and me, opened them wide. If it had been me, I couldn't have opened them that wide without involving at least Richard, but Jean-Claude had centuries of control under his belt. He used his free hand to touch my arm, and that was all we needed.

It was as if he pulled aside a curtain, a thick, velvet curtain. I could almost feel it sliding through my body, and then my necromancy flowed out from me like a chill wind. His power met mine, and the cold grew. But not the cold that blankets and coats would cure. This was the cold of the grave, spilled down our skins. Jean-Claude took that cold power and poured it down our hands and into Auggie. His power burst over Auggie, sudden enough that he had to close his eyes. His power was warmer than Jean-Claude's, warmer than my necromancy. He tasted not just of vampire, but of lion. More than any vampire I'd ever touched, he was also his beast. Interesting.

His cold warm power rose up, then spilled down his body to meet ours. It was a rush of power that tightened my throat, clenched my hand tight on Jean-Claude's. Only feasting on Auggie earlier let me know how small this power rush was compared to what we could do with him.

My lion tried to rise to roll his power. It was Auggie who soothed the lion, like a hand to stroke her quiet. But his power, far into me, found something else to rise. The ardeur started to flare, and it was Jean-Claude who rode it down, dampened those fires. He took the power, firm and hard, in his hand, the way he could suddenly take charge during lovemaking. You go from it being a team sport, to suddenly having him on top, and holding you still, so he can do exactly what he wants, in exactly the way he wants it, giving you more pleasure than you could have found on your own. He rode the power, and Auggie and I were just along for the ride.

The audience below us was oohing, aahing, giving little fake screams. It sounded like a crowd at a fireworks display, except this display was whirling, floating, diving bodies. I watched the dancers distantly. Their beauty no longer moved me. The power that Jean-Claude was building was the only thing that truly touched me.

But I heard the rustling of birds again; that got through the power haze. Merlin was about to pour power over the crowd again. He was going to hide the dancers, so they would vanish again, poof.

Jean-Claude used our power like a slap, a feint to let the other vampire know to back off. I heard birds flutter, as if they'd been disturbed in their sleep. I whispered, "Birds," and I couldn't tell if I said it out loud or not.

"His animal to call," Auggie whispered back, and that was a voice in my head.

I felt the power pull back, as if this Merlin had taken a deep breath. I had a moment to think he'd gotten the message, but the next moment that breath came back at us. Power poured over the audience. I felt the humans snuff out like matches, one by one. Vampires are allowed group hypnotism, because group mind tricks aren't permanent. Once the power is over, no harm, no foul. But this felt different. This felt like something that would linger, and change what it had touched.

"What's he doing?" and that was aloud.

Jean-Claude's voice breathed through my mind, "He is going to try to take us."

"What is he doing to the crowd?"

"He's trying to take us, all of us," Auggie said, "and that's too much power for the humans."

"He'll own them," I said.

"No," Jean-Claude said, "they are ours." He didn't try to fight for the minds of the crowd; he went straight for the source of our problem. He used the power of the three of us to smash into that mind.

The power staggered, as if we'd hit him, then the sound of birds filled the theatre. Twittering, crying, fluttering; the sound of hundreds of birds. The sound was so real that I searched the theatre for the flock, but there was nothing to see.

Nathaniel said, "I hear birds."

I didn't have time to wonder why he could hear them, too, because the birds were upon us. Feathers everywhere, touching, beating at me, trying to get me to move, to run. Jean-Claude's hand had a death grip on mine. Auggie's fingers dug into my shoulder, and the pain helped. It helped chase back the beating wings. I remembered the last time that a vampire's power had beat against my body like wings. Beat against me, not to frighten or make me run, but to be let inside. The power had cried in the dark, to be let inside me. Obsidian Butterfly, Master of the City of Albuquerque, had found her way inside me. She had filled my eyes with the blackness between suns, and the cold light of stars. She had also shared her power with me. That power came again, as if the touch of wings had called it.

Auggie cursed under his breath, his hand desperate on my shoulder. Jean-Claude said, "Ma petite, do not..." But whatever I wasn't to do he never said, because Obsidian Butterfly's gift dropped my shields and cut me open for Merlin's power. That metaphysical wind of wings and twittering calls poured inside me. The power poured inside me and I felt Merlin's triumph like the scream of some huge bird of prey. He thought he'd broken my shields, broken our shields, but he was wrong.

Jean-Claude and Auggie clung to me, trying to shore up what they, too, thought was a break in our power. But it wasn't a breach, it was a mouth.

It felt as if my body were a cave, a fleshy, soft cave, and the birds that I had heard and felt poured inside me, as if they'd found a home. I swear I could feel the brush of feathers, tiny bodies, fluttering, diving, filling me. Merlin's power poured into me, and tried to find Jean-Claude and Auggie. The power tried to find a way out of me and into them. Merlin poured more and more power into me, and I swallowed it.

Auggie and Jean-Claude clung to me, afraid to let go, afraid not to let go, I think. So much power, so much that it began to leak through into the other two vampires. The moment it touched them, they both understood. Merlin wasn't going to break me, we were going to eat him.

He must have figured it out at the same time, because he tried to stop the power, just cut it off. But I had the taste of him, and I didn't want it to stop.

The torrents of invisible birds slowed, but didn't stop. Obsidian Butterfly's power called to them, helped me know sweet words to use, to coax that power. The power kept coming, and I felt the flash of fear. It was sweet, and good, and I longed to taste the sweat on his skin. And I could, I licked down his skin, where he watched from the shadows.

He stared at me with dark eyes that held crimson like a pinpoint tear inside them. I'd seen eyes like that before. Never were human, were you? I thought.

He tried to break the contact, and he couldn't do it. Not with Auggie and Jean-Claude hooked up to me. He was big and bad and powerful, but he was not a Master of the City. He was not two Masters of the City, and he didn't know what the hell I was; in that moment neither did I.

I smelled jasmine and rain. I smelled a tropical night that hadn't existed for thousands on thousands of years. A voice rode the smell of rain. The Mother of All Darkness whispered, "I know what you are, necromancer."

I didn't want to ask, but it was as if I couldn't stop my mouth from forming the word. "What?"

"Mine."