The Harlequin

Chapter Nineteen



I HAD A blurred image of black marble, glass. A second to realize that I was about to hit the mirrors around Jean-Claude's tub. I tried to both tense and relax for the impact. A dark blur passed me, and when I smacked into the mirrors, there was a body behind me. A body that wrapped itself around me and took the impact as we hit the glass and the wall underneath. I heard the glass break, and we slid in a heap at the edge of the tub. I lay there, stunned, breath knocked out of me. It suddenly seemed very important to hear my own heartbeat. I blinked at nothing for a moment or two. Only when the body under me groaned did I turn my head enough to see, in the mirrors that weren't cracked, who I'd landed on. Jake lay in a heap against the spiderweb cracks of the glass. He was one of the newest members of Richard's pack, though not new to being a werewolf, and had only been a bodyguard for a few weeks. His eyes were closed; blood trickled down from his short, dark curls. He wasn't moving. I gazed up, past us, and saw that some of the jagged pieces were missing. There was a huge piece that sparkled as it moved away from the wall and begin to fall toward us. I grabbed Jake and pulled with everything I had. I pulled like I didn't expect him to move, but I forgot that I was more than human strong. I pulled, and he moved, moved so hard and sudden that we ended up in the bathtub. I was suddenly underwater with his weight on top of me. Before I could panic, he startled awake, grabbing my arms, and jerked us both to the surface. We came up gasping, as the glass tinkled like sharp raindrops where we'd just been lying.



"Shit!" This from the doorway.



I blinked water out of my eyes to see Claudia in the room. There were more guards crowding in behind her. Claudia strode into the room and lifted me bodily out of the tub. Other hands lifted Jake. He fell to his knees when they got him out. It took two of them to carry him into the bedroom. I walked on my own, but Claudia kept her hand on my arm. I think she expected me to collapse, too. Other than being wet, everything seemed to be working. But I didn't bother telling her to let go of me, with the grip she had... Call it a hunch, but she wouldn't have done it anyway. I'd learned to argue carefully with Claudia; it upped my chances of winning the arguments.



Claudia half-led, half-pulled me into the bedroom. The room was nearly black with bodyguards. A handful of red shirts stood out like berries in a muffin - though "muffin" didn't quite cover the level of adrenaline-charged readiness. There was so much tension it felt as if I should have been able to walk across it. Some of them had guns out, pointed at the floor or ceiling.



I stood there dripping wet, searching the crowd for Jean-Claude. As if she understood what I was doing, Claudia said, "I sent Jean-Claude outside. He's safe, Anita, I promise."



Graham stepped out from the crowd. "We thought it might be a plot to hurt him." He looked and sounded fine now. There was no sign of the earlier panic.



"How you feeling?" I asked.



He gave me a puzzled grin. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"



A chill ran through me that had nothing to do with standing wet in the colder air. "You don't remember, do you?"



"Remember what?" he asked.



"Shit," I said.



Claudia turned me toward her. "What's going on, Anita?"



"Hang on a minute, okay?"



Her grip on my arm tightened enough that it hurt. She probably could have crushed it if she'd been this muscled and human, but combine the workout with being a wererat and she was very strong.



"Watch the grip, Claudia," I said.



She let me go and wiped her hand against her jeans to get rid of the water. "Sorry."



"It's okay," I said. A sound of ripping cloth took my attention from Graham. Jake was on his knees by the armoire. Someone had ripped his shirt down the back. The bare back was bleeding, a lot. Cisco, one of the youngest of the wererats, was picking glass out of that once-smooth skin. Jake was a werewolf, and he was this hurt. It meant that if it had been my back, I'd be going to the hospital.



"Thanks, Jake," I said.



"Just doing my job, ma'am." His voice hesitated at the end as Cisco and another guard started picking glass out of him.



"Did anyone check his scalp for glass?" Claudia asked.



No one said yes. She called out, "Juanito, check him for glass."



Juanito was another newer guard. I'd been introduced to some of them when the word went out that we needed more men, but the tall, dark, handsome man was a stranger to me. I'd nodded at him, that was about it. At least Jake had been here a few weeks. Juanito meant "little Juan," but he didn't match his name. He was six feet at least, slender but muscular. He was not a little anything, as far as I could tell.



"I'm not a medic," he said.



"I didn't ask," Claudia said.



He just stood there staring at her, clearly not happy.



"I gave you an order. Follow it," she said. I hadn't heard that tone in Claudia's voice often. If I'd been him I'd have done what she said.



He moved to the kneeling werewolf and started picking through the wet curls. He didn't do it like his heart was in it, though. Cisco and the other guard seemed to be taking their job seriously.



Graham brought a large towel from the bathroom and started picking up the bloody pieces of glass that were already on the floor. Cisco and the others started dropping the glass onto the towel. It looked like red rain and sharp little pieces of hail.



"How bad is Jake hurt?" I asked Claudia.



"Not bad, but we don't want the skin healing over the glass."



"That happen often?" I asked.



"Often enough," she said.



I looked back at the men and found that Jake's back was smoothing even as I watched. "Is it just me or is he healing fast even for a shapeshifter?"



"It's not just you," Claudia said. "He heals faster than almost anyone I've ever met."



The three guards were searching frantically along his body, trying to stay ahead of his skin as it flowed over the wounds. Juanito had gotten over his reluctance and was now searching Jake's hair with fumbling fingers, desperately searching through the curls. "I'm not going to get them all! He's healing too fast!"



"The glass you miss, you get to cut out," Claudia said.



"Shit," he said, and worked faster.



Jake made almost no sound while everyone picked at his wounds. He stayed silent and motionless under their hands. I'd have been cursing and at least flinching.



Graham had apparently picked up all the stray glass he could find, because he wiped his fingers on the towel and stood up.



"Graham, you wearing a holy item?" I hoped he'd say no.



"No," he said.



Relief flooded through me, and I shivered. I was cold from the wet clothes and the reaction to the accident. No, not accident. The Harlequin had tried to kill me. Fuck. I hadn't understood; even with everyone's warnings, I hadn't understood. I was like a kid who'd poked a kitten with a stick and found a tiger staring at me.



"Talk to us, Anita," Claudia said.



There were so many people in the room that they couldn't all know about the Harlequin. How to explain without overexplaining? "The bad guys messed with Graham, a lot, and he doesn't remember it."



"What are you talking about?" Graham asked. "No one's messed with me."



"Ask Clay," I said. "He saw it, too."



Claudia hit the radio in her hand and called for Clay to join us when he could. Then she turned to me. "From the top, Anita, all of it."



"I can't give you all of it until I talk to Jean-Claude."



"This cloak-and-dagger shit is getting old." This from Fredo: slender, not too tall, and dangerous. He was the only wererat who carried a gun sometimes but preferred knives, lots of them.



"For me, too," I said, "but you guys have to know about Graham now, not later."



"We're listening," Claudia said. She was very serious, almost threatening. She didn't like the cloak-and-dagger stuff either. I didn't blame her.



I told them, though I toned it down for Graham's embarrassment's sake.



Claudia said, "A vampire, in daylight, from a distance, messed with Graham?"



"Yes," I said.



"That shouldn't be possible," she said.



"Not in daylight, from a distance, no, it shouldn't be."



"You're telling me as a vampire executioner that you've never seen anything like this?"



I started to say no, then stopped. "I've had a few Masters of the City mess with me from a distance when I was sleeping, and in their territory."



"But that was at night," she said.



"True," I said.



We stared at each other. "Are you saying these guys..." She stopped herself.



I waited for her to finish; when she didn't, I said, "Holy objects need to be mandatory for everyone."



"It didn't help you much just now," she said.



"It kept them from messing with my head as bad as they messed with Graham's. He doesn't even remember."



"I know you wouldn't lie," Graham said, "but because I don't remember, I don't believe it."



"That's what makes vampire mind tricks so dangerous," I said. "That very thing. The victim doesn't remember so it didn't happen."



Jake's voice came with only a slight edge of strain to it. "What did you do to get the cross to do that?"



"It wasn't the cross," I said.



There was a flash of blade as Juanito searched Jake's dark curls for the right spot. Apparently they were going to have to cut some of the glass out. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't let myself do that. Jake had gotten hurt because of me. The least I could do was watch the cleanup.



"What was it, then?" he asked, the last word hissed as the blade cut into his scalp.



"I... I'm not sure how to explain it."



"Try," he said, through gritted teeth.



"I tried to fight back with my necromancy and they, he, didn't like it."



Juanito shook the piece of glass onto the bloody towel, then turned back to search through the now-bloody curls.



"He?" Claudia asked.



"Yeah, definitely he."



"Did you see him?" Jake asked, and his breath went out sharp as another piece of glass went on the towel.



"Not exactly see, but I felt him. The energy was definitely male."



"How was it male?" Jake asked, his voice thin with pain.



I thought about it. "I thought I saw a male figure for an instant, and the..." I almost said mask and stopped myself. "But that could have been illusion. Except that the power felt male."



"What else did you get?" His body shuddered as Cisco worked on his back, apparently finding more glass he'd missed. Crap.



I answered, though I probably shouldn't have, but he'd taken my hit. I felt like I owed him. "Wolf, I smelled wolf."



He cried out under the knives. "That hurt!"



"I'm sorry," Cisco muttered. "I'm really sorry."



Juanito said, "Got it." He raised bloody fingers from Jake's hair. Something glittered in his hands that wasn't the knife. "That's the last of it, all I can find."



"Hope I can return the favor sometime," Jake said.



"If I apologized like Cisco, would you be less pissed?"



"Yes," Jake said.



"Fine, I apologize."



"I accept it."



Cisco moved back from him and laid something that looked like solid blood on the towel. "That's it for your back, too."



"Thanks," Jake said. He tried to get to his feet, but fell against the armoire so hard it shuddered. Hands reached to help him, covering his arms in bloody prints of his own blood.



He pushed them away. "I'm all right." Then he fell to his knees.



"Help him," Claudia said.



Cisco and Juanito reached for him again. Jake waved them away.



I walked the few feet to them. I knelt in front of Jake, so that I could meet his eyes without him straining. He rolled brown eyes up to me. His normally handsome face seemed strained and tired. He was a little too masculine handsome for my tastes. I liked men a little softer looking, but I could still appreciate the view. Except now the view was hurting too badly to be admired.



"I'd be in the hospital or worse now, Jake. Thank you."



"Like I said, it's my job," but his voice was strained.



"Let them help you, please."



He looked at me for a long moment. "What do you think the wolf smell meant?"



"I think it was the vamp's animal to call. Some vamps smell like their animal."



"Most vampires smell like vampires to me," he said.



"I've met a couple that smelled like their animals to call." I didn't add out loud that those had been Auggie, Master of Chicago, and Marmee Noir. Auggie was about two thousand years old, and Mommie Dearest was older than dirt. Which put this vampire in very powerful company.



"You're thinking something, what is it?" he asked.



I might not have answered him, except he'd gotten himself hurt protecting me. It made me feel guilty. "That the only two vamps I've ever known who smelled that much like their animals were Auggie, Master of Chicago, and the Mother of All Darkness."



"I've heard of Augustine, but the Mother of All Darkness, I'm not sure who that is."



"She's the Mother of All Vampires," I said.



His eyes widened, then flinched. "Powerful shit."



"Yeah," I said, "powerful shit. Let them take you to the doc, okay?"



He gave a small nod. "Okay."



Cisco and Juanito picked him up under the arms. They did it like he wasn't tall and muscled, and weighed at least two hundred pounds. Super-strength did come in handy. He got his feet sort of under him as the guards parted and let them through. By the time they had the door, Jake was almost walking upright. Almost.



Chapter Twenty



THIS TIME I chose a black shirt, because my last clean bra was hanging up to dry in the bathroom. I was never entirely comfortable without a bra. I wasn't sure whether the fact that the black baby-doll shirt was tight enough that it helped support my breasts was a good thing or not. I think I would have preferred the shirt to be looser. Tight felt better, but it looked like I'd done it on purpose, rather than just running out of clothes. Also, braless the shoulder holster fit, but if I had to draw the gun I'd brush the edge of my breast. It was a small irritation, but it could make you hesitate for a second. Sometimes a second was enough to get you killed. I stood in the bathroom, grumpy and uncomfortable. It was like my skin was too small. Itchy with embarrassment and swallowed anger. I searched myself, with the same "eyes" that let you see images in your head, for that spot where the Harlequin had marked me. It was gone, but I could still see the spot like a bruise. A metaphysical bruise, as if their touch had hurt me in a way that would last.



I dried my hair a little more with a towel and actually scrunched some hair-care product in the curls. I was half embarrassed that I used stuff on my hair, but Jean-Claude had convinced me there was no shame to a little pampering. It still felt girlie to do it. Should you be worried about your hair frizzing when you wear a gun at least twelve of any given twenty-four hours? Seemed like you shouldn't.



There was a soft knock on the door. "What?" I asked, and even to me it sounded angry. Shit.



"I'm sorry, Anita, but Jean-Claude sent me to check on you."



"Sorry, Clay, it's just been one of those days already."



"Breakfast is waiting in the living room," he said through the closed door.



"Is there coffee?" I asked.



"Fresh, from the guards' break room."



I took in a deep breath, let it out, and went for the door. Coffee. Everything would be better after coffee.



I expected Graham to be with Clay, but it was Sampson. He wasn't a guard. In fact, he was sort of a visiting prince. He was the eldest son of the Master Vampire of Cape Cod, Samuel. Their vampire group wanted a closer tie with us, and one way to do that was for Sampson to audition as my new pomme de sang - apple of blood, like a kept mistress. It had been Nathaniel's job until he moved up the power structure to my animal to call. Now I needed a new snacky bit, whether I liked it, or whether I didn't. The ardeur needed more food. So far I'd managed to avoid having sex with Sampson. Since he was almost as embarrassed about the whole situation as I was, well, it hadn't been that hard to avoid. It wasn't that he wasn't handsome. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a fall of dark curls that were identical to his father's. He even had his father's hazel eyes. In fact, he was one of those sons who looked like the father had cloned himself, except he was a few inches taller, and somehow softer. But then Samuel was over a thousand years old. You didn't survive that long in vampire society by being soft. You certainly didn't rise to be Master of the City by being soft, and you sure as hell didn't stay there by being anything but hard.



Sampson smiled at me, and it was a nice smile, boyish, a little bashful. He was wearing a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled back and the collar loose. The shirt was untucked over dress slacks. He was barefoot. His mother was a mermaid, a siren, and it made Sampson react more like a shapeshifter sometimes. He didn't like shoes, though he did like clothes better than my furry friends. Maybe water is colder?



"We're shorthanded, remember?" Clay said.



"I remember." Though I didn't sound happy about it.



"Am I that big a disappointment?" Sampson asked, but his smile widened, and his eyes twinkled with it. He never seemed to take my bad moods personally. Of course, I'd met his mother, Thea. She was like the ocean: calm one minute, rising up to kill you the next. I think she'd sort of broken him to the thought that women were moody.



"Thanks for volunteering to be food so the red shirt guards could be elsewhere," I said, and my voice sounded nicely dry and sarcastic.



"I heard you'd already fed the ardeur," he said.



I nodded.



He held his arm out to me. "Then allow me to escort you to your master, and real food."



I sighed, but I took his arm. Sampson was supposed to have been a short-term loan. To the larger vampire community he was here to try out for the position of pomme de sang. That was half the truth. The other half was that his mother was a siren, and the last of her kind. She was a genetic queen among the merfolk, magical, powerful, and most of that magic was sexual in nature. All mermaids could be alluring to mortals, but sirens could force you to wreck your ship. They could call you down to the sea and drown you and you'd enjoy it. They were sort of like master vampires, except more specialized, and more rare. Like I said, Thea was the last of her kind, unless her sons could be brought into their full power.



Problem was, the only way to bring a siren into their power was sex with another siren. Since Thea was the last of her kind and her sons were the last potential of her bloodline, well, it was all too Oedipus Rex for comfort.



She actually had no problem with doing the job herself. She'd been worshipped as a goddess once a few thousand years ago. Gods and goddesses married each other all the time, or at least fucked. But Samuel, though a thousand years old, was more conventional. He told her if she approached Sampson again for it, he'd kill her. Furthermore, if she approached their seventeen-year-old twin sons at all, he'd kill her. Again, so Greek tragedy. But if their sons could be as powerful as Thea, or even close, then suddenly Samuel's family would rule the East Coast. They just would. They were our allies and friends. Jean-Claude had called Samuel friend for a few centuries. Them powerful didn't seem like a bad idea.



The idea was that the ardeur might be similar enough to siren power that I might be able to bring Sampson into his sirenhood. If I could, great. If I couldn't, then Thea had promised to leave her sons alone and accept that she was the last of the sirens. That her sons being half human, or half vampire, depending on how you looked at it, meant they weren't mermaid enough to be what she was. See why I'd agreed to keeping Sampson around for a while? I mean, I was like their only chance to avoid a family tragedy of epic proportions. But it still made me feel squeachy.



But I slid my left arm through his arm. I let him lead me to the door, with Clay ahead of us doing the bodyguard thing. Though, frankly, since I was the only one armed, I didn't feel all that protected. The only wolf I'd seen with a gun had been Jake. Jake had a military background, so Richard had given him permission to carry weaponry. I'd asked Richard's permission to take some of the wolf guards to the shooting range and see who could handle a gun. He'd said he'd think about it. I had no idea why he had a problem with the werewolves being armed, but he was Ulfric, wolf king, and his word was law. I was lupa, but in wolf society that's more like an uber-girlfriend. It's not a queen, and it's not equal. I preferred leopard society; it was less sexist. Nimir-Ra truly was equal to Nimir-Raj.



We were still in the stone corridor, with the draped walls of the living room in sight, when I heard enough voices to know it was a lot more than Jean-Claude waiting for me. Clay lifted to one side the heavy spill of drapes that made up the living room walls so Sampson and I could enter.



Jean-Claude and Richard had to turn on the couch to look as we entered. Jean-Claude's face remained pleasant and welcoming as he stood. Richard's face clouded over, his gaze flicking to Sampson on my arm. Richard fought to control his emotions, the effort visible on his face and in the set of his shoulders, the way his hands flexed. I appreciated that he was trying.



I appreciated the effort enough that I let go of Sampson's arm and went to Richard. I leaned over the couch and kissed him on the cheek. He looked surprised, as if it had been a long time since I had kissed him first. There were, after all, so many choices. Micah stood across the room, setting his plate down on the glass coffee table with the rest of the food that someone had brought into the underground. Nathaniel was sitting on the floor by the table. He smiled at me, but he stayed where he was. He'd wait his turn for his greeting. I went to Jean-Claude next because he was closest. If we were doing formal we did the greetings more formally, but at breakfast with just us we tried not to sweat the niceties. Sampson had been raised in a kiss of vampires that did it old-school, which meant they all did the Miss Manners version, vampire style, no matter the hour or the event. By those rules I'd already made three mistakes. One, I had let go of Sampson's arm. You stayed on your escort's arm until someone more powerful got you off that arm, or until your escort introduced you to someone he was willing to give you up to. Two, I'd greeted someone in the room before I'd greeted the Master of the City. Three, I'd greeted a wereanimal ruler before greeting the highest-ranking vamp in the room. Old-school meant that no one was more important than the vampires. The exception to this rule at Sampson's home was his mother, Thea. Technically she was Samuel's animal to call, but if Sampson's father had any weakness it was Thea, so you ignored her at your peril. She was queen to Samuel's king no matter what vampire rules said.



Jean-Claude was in one of his very formal white shirts, with a real cravat held in place with a silver and sapphire stickpin on his chest. He'd even put on a black velvet jacket with matching silver buttons. It was very militaristic. The shirt I'd seen before, or one like it; the jacket was new - to me, at least. I hadn't seen it yet, but I was pretty sure somewhere in the underground there was a huge room full of nothing but Jean-Claude's clothes. The pants were actually cloth but fit tighter than any dress slacks I'd ever seen. The tight pants smoothed into thigh-high boots that were black and leather and had silver buckles up the side of them from ankle to midthigh. He was way too dressed up for just a family breakfast. When he drew me into his arms, the curls that brushed my face were still damp from the shower. If he took the time to bathe, he'd take the time to dry his hair.



"You seem tense, ma petite" he whispered into my own damp hair.



"You're way too well dressed for breakfast, and your hair is still damp, which means you dressed in a hurry. Why the rush?"



He kissed me gently, but I didn't close my eyes or relax into the kiss. He sighed. "You are too observant for comfort at times, ma petite. We were going to allow you to finish your breakfast before we discussed business."



"What business?" I asked.



Micah came up beside us. I went from Jean-Claude's arms to his, and found that Micah, too, was too dressed up. He was in charcoal-gray dress pants and a pale green silk shirt, tucked into the pants. He was even wearing shiny dress shoes that were a few shades darker than the pants. Someone had French-braided his still-damp hair, which gave the illusion that his hair was very short and close to his head. It left his face bare so that all I could see was how very pretty he was. The bones of his face were damn near feminine. Somehow with some of his curls to distract the eye you didn't notice it as much. The green shirt made his chartreuse eyes green, green like seawater with sunlight through it, swimmingly green with gold light caught in it.



I had to close my eyes to say, "What business?"



"Rafael has requested a breakfast meeting," Micah said.



That made me open my eyes. "Clay told me Rafael was wanting something other than money for the extra guards."



Micah nodded.



"Rafael is our ally and our friend, right? Why are you guys dressed up and all serious?" I looked around the room. When I caught sight of Claudia, she looked away. She looked uncomfortable, as if whatever Rafael wanted embarrassed her. What the hell could it be?



Nathaniel came to us, his ankle-length hair unbound and still heavy with water. He'd dried it, but it just took a while for that much hair to dry completely. This wet, the hair looked closer to a simple deep brown than the nearly copper auburn that it was. He was still carrying the couch cushion he'd been balancing his plate on, though the plate was on the table. He carried the cushion in front of his waist and groin. All I could see below the cushion was a pair of cream-colored leather boots that hit him midthigh.



"What aren't you wearing behind that cushion?"



He threw the cushion behind him with a flourish and a grin. He was wearing a G-string that matched the boots, and that was it. I'd seen the outfit before, but never this early in the morning. "Not that I don't appreciate the view, because I do, but isn't it a little early for fetish wear?"



"All my dress shirts here are silk. My hair's so wet it would stain them." He pressed himself into my arms, and my hands curved under all that heavy hair and found it was still very wet, so wet that the skin of his naked back was cool and slightly damp to the touch. He was right, silk would have been ruined. My hands curved lower until I found the round, tight bareness of his buttocks. He flexed under my hands and I had to close my eyes and take a breath before I could say, "Why are you wearing this for a meeting with Rafael?"



Micah answered, "We thought it might remind Rafael what exactly being close to us means. Rumor has it, he's vanilla."



I stepped back from Nathaniel, because I had trouble thinking when I was touching any of my men naked. "Say that again."



Richard's voice, so unhappy that I knew the news was bad. "Rafael wants you, too?"



"I'm lost," I said.



"Rafael has put himself forward as a candidate to be your new pomme de sang," Jean-Claude said, his voice as bland and emptily pleasant as he could make it.



I just gaped at him. I couldn't even think of anything to say.



Nathaniel touched my chin and closed my mouth, gently. He kissed my cheek, and said, "It's okay, Anita."



I swallowed and stared into that peaceful face. He smiled gently at me. I shook my head. "Why would he ask this? Rafael doesn't do anything without a reason."



Claudia cleared her throat sharply. We all turned to her. She looked as embarrassed as I'd ever seen her. "He's afraid that Asher's ties to the werehyenas will make them have closer ties to Jean-Claude and you than we do, the rats."



"He's my friend," Richard said. "I am not friends with the werehyenas' leader."



"But Rafael isn't friends with Jean-Claude, or Anita. It's just a business arrangement with them. Asher is their lover, and his animal to call is the hyena now, so that makes the hyenas more essential to your plans than us."



"The rats are our allies and friends," I said, "and nothing personal to the hyenas, but I trust the rats a heck of a lot more one-on-one as guards than most of the hyenas."



Claudia nodded. "With a few exceptions the hyenas are amateur muscle, and Rafael doesn't recruit amateurs."



"You guys are important to us, Claudia. Where the hell did Rafael get the idea that we'd dump him for Narcissus?" I asked.



She shrugged those wonderfully muscled shoulders as much as the muscles would allow. "He wants a closer tie to Jean-Claude, that's all I know."



I looked at Jean-Claude and Richard. "I don't have to do this, right?"



"No, ma petite, you do not, but we must hear his case for it. I agree with not doing it. I think the other wereanimals would take it badly if you made someone's king your new pomme de sang."



"The other wereanimals are already jealous of Anita's ties to the wereleopards and the wolves," Sampson said. He'd walked around us to help himself to food and to take one of the chairs by the fireplace. I'd sort of forgotten he was there. He had that ability to blend into the woodwork when he wanted to. Not magic, just tact.



"What do you mean?" I asked. "Those are our animals to call. We're supposed to have a tighter bind to them."



"True, but you, Anita, carry the strain for lion and at least one other lycanthrope strain. There are those among the community who believe they know why the doctors can't identify that fourth strain in your body." He took a bite of croissant, and I was suddenly hungry. With all that was happening, my stomach rolled and let me know there were other hungers besides the ardeur.



"What's their theory?" I asked. I went to the table and started putting food on one of the white china plates. We had take-out food every morning, but by God we ate off real plates with real silverware. Though the silverware was actually gold-plated, so that there was no problem with everyone using the utensils. Real silver can burn the skin of a lycanthrope. Not burn as in blister, but burn as in itch and hurt.



"Chimera attacked you in lion form, which explains the lion lycanthropy, but he was also a panwere. You've discussed that you may be able to add new types of lycanthropy until you shapeshift for the first time, haven't you?" Sampson asked.



"Yeah, we've discussed it, as a theory," I said.



"Some in the shapeshifter community would like you to try to take on as many of their beasts as you can before you shift, so that they'll have a tighter alliance with Jean-Claude."



I looked at Claudia. "Is that true? Have people been suggesting that?"



"There has been talk."



"Is that really what Rafael wants?" I asked. "I mean, he knows that Richard and I don't want to put him in my bed, but is that just a ruse? He offers sex, I say no, and then he does a counterproposal of what... trying to give me rat-based lycanthropy?"



"I'm not sure what he plans to say," she said.



I looked at Sampson. "How do you know all this?"



"I was raised in what amounts to a royal court, Anita. You live and die on your intelligence information."



"I've noticed that Sampson has an almost uncanny ability to elicit confidences," Jean-Claude said.



"You rolling them with mermaid tricks?" I asked.



He shrugged and took another bite of croissant.



"Using mind tricks on people without their permission is punishable by law," I said.



"The law actually states that it's illegal to use vampire tricks, telepathy, or witchcraft to elicit information without permission. I'm not using any of the three."



"I could make a court case that mermaid power is a form of telepathy."



"But I'm not reading their minds; they're volunteering information to me. That's not telepathy at all. Besides, this isn't a court case, this is about how to swim through the rocks in your path."



"And you have a suggestion," I said, and let it sound as suspicious as I wanted it to.



He laughed and wiped his hands on the white napkin in his lap. "You can avoid the sex question by saying that I'm the next candidate, which is true. I can simply not give up my place as next in your bed. Their king knows I am the eldest son of another Master of the City, and I have prior claim to your affections."



"And it will get you in her bed sooner," Richard said; he sounded suspicious, too.



Sampson gave him a patient look with just an edge of impatience. "I have been here for months and not pushed my claim. Partly because, until Anita tries to bring me into my siren abilities, my mother will leave my brothers alone. I'm not at all convinced that the ardeur is similiar enough to my mother's powers that Anita can awaken me to that other power. If I sleep with Anita and it doesn't work, then my family is back to the same problem."



"Your mother promised that if I couldn't bring you into your siren-hood, she'd accept that she was the last siren, and she'd leave you and your brothers alone."



He laughed and shook his head. "She's not human, Anita, or a vampire; her word doesn't mean what you think it means. She wants us to be sirens, and I don't believe she'll accept your failure gracefully. But as long as I'm here trying, then she'll wait."



"And she'll leave your little brothers alone," I said.



He nodded. "But my mother won't wait forever, Anita. One of the reasons she traded Perdita to you as a blood donor was so Perdy could keep an eye on me."



"She's a spy?" I made it a question.



"I know she's enjoying dating your Jason, but yes, she's a spy. My father will accept and encourage that I've been a gentleman about everything, but my mother will lose patience with it."



"We can send Perdita back when you go," Richard said.



"She's spying on me, not on you."



"Your mom doesn't trust you not to fudge on this," I said.



"No, she doesn't. She knows how much I want to avoid her doing anything that will force my father to kill her. He adores her, but if she forces sex on me or my brothers he will do what he vowed. He will slay the woman he loves above all others. It would destroy him, and our family."



"You have been most patient," Jean-Claude said.



I wanted to argue, but couldn't. I nodded. "You have been."



"So just like that he gets to fuck you," Richard said.



I sighed. "You've done so well today, Richard. Don't spoil it."



"And how would you feel if I picked one of the women here in the underground to have sex with while you fuck Sampson?"



I looked at him. I thought of several things to say, none of them helpful.



"You wouldn't like it, would you?" he said.



"No," I said, not sure what else to say.



"Then don't expect me to enjoy sharing you."



"I don't expect you to like it, Richard. I don't think Jean-Claude likes it either, or Micah." I looked at Nathaniel. I both frowned and smiled.



"I like sharing," he said, with a smile.



"Good for you," Richard said. "I don't."



"You're having sex with the human women you're dating," I said.



"Some of them, yes I am."



"You're doing that by choice; I'm doing this because I have to."



"You'll still enjoy it," he said.



"Would it make you happier if the sex were bad?"



"Yes." He stood up, and let me finally see that he was wearing nice jeans and a red T-shirt. He'd probably refused fetish wear, and I didn't think he had any dress clothes here. "Yes, it would make me feel better if I didn't know you'd enjoy it."



"I don't know what to say to that, Richard, I really don't."



"I'm not having sex with anyone but Anita, and I don't have a problem with this," Micah said.



"No, of course you don't, because you're perfect," Richard said.



Micah looked at me, as if asking how much fight to have.



"Don't fight," I said. "Let's eat, then we'll talk about what to say to Rafael."



"And just because she says 'don't fight,' you won't fight, will you?" Richard asked.



"Usually, no," Micah said.



"Sometimes, Micah, I hate you," Richard said.



"Right back at you," Micah said with a smile.



Richard's power slapped along my skin like tiny bites of heat. But Micah was closer, and when his power flared, too, it was like standing too close to an open oven. "Stop it, both of you."



"Mon chat, mon ami, we do not have time for this."



"I am not your friend," Richard said. "I am your wolf to call, but that does not make us friends."



Jean-Claude took a deep breath, let it out, and went very still. Still in that way that the old ones could go, so that you felt if you looked away they'd vanish, even though they were standing right there. His voice when it came was neutral, pleasant, in an empty, impersonal way. "As you like, Richard. Mon chat, and mon lupe, we do not have time for this."



Richard turned toward him, his power filling up the room like hot bathwater that had gotten out of hand. You thought you were having a nice relaxing bath, and suddenly you were drowning. My pulse sped up, and the wolf inside me stirred.



I closed my eyes and started breathing, deep and even, breathing from the soles of my feet to the top of my chest. Deep cleansing breaths, to still that movement deep inside me. To isolate me from what Richard was doing. It was his power, not mine. I did not have to respond to it. Part of me believed that, but part of me knew better. His power and mine had married too tightly.



"Don't call me that," Richard said.



"If you are only my wolf to call and you are not my friend, then what else can I call you?" Jean-Claude's voice was very flat when he said it. I realized suddenly that he was angry, too. Angry at Rafael? Angry at the Harlequin? Angry at everything?



"Not that, not just wolf."



"You take insult where none is intended, but if you will find insult where none is meant, then perhaps I should try harder to insult on purpose."



The sound of the heavy outer door banged loud in the charged silence. It made me jump. "Rafael is here," Claudia said. Her voice managed to sound relieved and worried all at the same time, as if she was happy to cut the fight short, but worried what her king would do.



Richard was glaring at Jean-Claude, and the vampire was finally letting his anger show on his face when Rafael walked through the far drapes. Rafael was tall, dark, and handsome. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the six-foot, darkly Hispanic man in his nicely cut business suit. He'd left the tie off, so that the white dress shirt framed the hollow of his neck like an invitation. That last thought didn't sound like my own. I glanced at Jean-Claude, wondering if it was his. He'd fed on someone's blood today, I could tell that much, but I knew that sometimes he lusted after powerful blood the way that other men lusted after pretty women. What I hadn't known until that moment was that he lusted after Rafael as food.



Another surprise was behind him. Louie Fane, Dr. Louis Fane, teacher of biology at Washington University, and live-in boyfriend of one of my best friends. Ronnie, Veronica, Sims would probably have told me boyfriend sounded too junior high school. She'd have probably preferred the term lover, but it was my interior dialogue so I could use the words I wanted. Besides, Ronnie's continuing campaign to make her and Louie's relationship about sex and not emotion was her problem, not mine. Though sometimes she made it mine.



Louie was five foot six, slender, but not weak looking. Today his arms were covered, but when they were bare fine muscles played in his forearms. His hair was straight and dark, and cut short, freshly so, because I'd seen him only last week and it had been past his ears; now it wasn't. His face was softly squared, almost the only hint that his mother had been from Ecuador. That and the black eyes, darker even than my own.



I was surprised to see Louie. Don't know why; he was Rafael's second-in-command. How did a mild-mannered college prof get to be second banana in an animal group made up mostly of mercs and ex-criminals? By being smart, and not nearly as soft as he looked.



"Rafael, King of the Rodere of St. Louis, welcome," Jean-Claude said. The formality of the greeting set the tone.



"Jean-Claude, Master of the City of St. Louis, I am honored that you have invited me into your home." His gaze went to Richard. "Ulfric of the Thronnos Rokke Clan, friend and ally, thank you for seeing me so early in the day."



I was close enough to hear the sharp intake of breath, and I thought Richard would say something that went with that almost violent breath, but he let the air out slowly. It shuddered a little on its way out, and he spoke almost normally. "Rafael, King of Rats, friend and ally, there's plenty of food, help yourself."



"Thank you," Rafael said, and some tension I hadn't realized was there went out of his broad shoulders, as if he'd worried about Richard's reaction, too.



Louie went to Richard, and they did that guy handshake/hug, where you grip forearms and sort of bump shoulders. I heard him say, "Sorry about this."



If Richard said anything, I didn't hear it because Micah was talking to Rafael. "Are the leopards so unimportant that you do not even greet their king or queen?"



Of all the people in the room, I hadn't expected problems from Micah. From the look on Rafael's face, him either. "I meant no disrespect, Nimir-Raj."



"Yes, you did," Micah said.



"Micah..." I said.



He shook his head at me. "No, Anita, we can't let an insult like this go. We can't."



Richard said, "You finally find something worth fighting for, Micah?"



He gave Richard a cold look. "What would you do if Rafael had ignored you and greeted every other leader in the room?"



Anger flashed over Richard's face, then smoothed out. "I wouldn't like it."



"Jean-Claude, you need to teach your cats better manners," Rafael said.



That got my attention, and not in a good way. I moved to stand by Micah. Nathaniel moved up with us, though a little behind us. We were king and queen; you didn't stand in front of the royalty, even if you were living with them.



"We aren't pets," I said.



"You are Jean-Claude's human servant, and the leopards have no connection to the Master of the City except through you, Anita. They are not linked directly to the vampires of this city."



I felt movement around us as the bodyguards shifted nervously. Rafael didn't even look at them. I did. I looked at Claudia, and she actually blushed. "Whose side are you on if the flags go up?" I asked.



"Do you actually believe you could challenge me?" Rafael said, and he sounded amused. I ignored him and kept my gaze on Claudia. Micah had his attention on Rafael, and I knew he'd let me know if I needed to look at the big man.



"Come on, Claudia, Fredo, talk to me. You're our bodyguards, but he's your king. If it goes bad, can we depend on you, or not?"



"They are my people," Rafael said. "They owe their loyalty to me."



I finally looked at him. It was not a friendly look. "Then they need to leave this room, now. We need hyena and wolves in here, now."



"They are no match for my people," Rafael said.



"Maybe not, but at least I can trust who they'll jump for."



Clay had hit his radio and was relaying my request.



Rafael looked at Jean-Claude. "Are the leopards in charge here, Jean-Claude? It is what I had heard, but I had not believed it." He had turned away from us as if we didn't matter.



I had a horrible urge to draw my gun, but knew I'd never get it out in time. Not with Claudia and Fredo in the room. And besides, I wouldn't really shoot him over an insult, and you never draw a gun unless you're willing to use it. I wasn't willing to use it, but I was really wanting a way to wipe that arrogance off Rafael's face.



Wolves and hyenas spilled into the room, at a run. We now had more of our people in the room than we did wererats. The tightness in my stomach eased a little.



"Rafael," Richard said, "why are you doing this?"



"Doing what?" he asked. "Treating the leopards as the lesser power they are supposed to be?"



Richard let his face show the surprise he felt. "Are you purposefully trying to bait Anita?"



"I have come to negotiate with the Master of the City and his triumvirate of power. His animal to call and his human servant."



"I'm also the leopard's queen, and they are my animal to call," I said. "You can't insult one half of my power base while you try to negotiate with the other."



"Exactly," Rafael said.



"What?" I asked.



"You have made your point, Rafael," Jean-Claude said.



I looked from one to the other. "Not to me, he hasn't."



"I'm confused, too," Richard said.



"I have worked for years to build the wererats into a force to be reckoned with, bargained with, a force not to be treated lightly. Though I may dislike Narcissus, he, in his own way, has also built the werehyenas up into a force to be reckoned with." He motioned at us, the only three leopards in the room. "The leopards were the playthings of the wolves when Raina was their lupa. Gabriel, the leader of the leopards, was her pawn. Then Anita killed both of them. She became lupa to the wolves and tried to protect the leopards. I was happy that the leopards had a true protector, someone who did not just use them. No group deserves the treatment that they suffered at Gabriel's hands." He walked toward us, slowly, nothing menacing in that movement, but I fought an urge to step back. Somehow I wasn't sure I wanted him that close to me, to us.



Rafael spoke as he moved calmly toward us. "Then Anita became more than just a human with extraordinary powers. By all accounts she may truly be a shapeshifter one of these moons."



"So what?" I asked. "So what if I finally turn furry for real?"



"Leopard is not Jean-Claude's animal to call, it is yours. Yet you are not a vampire. You are leopard queen, but not a wereleopard. The wolves' lupa, but not a werewolf. Now the lions are yours to call. If Joseph and his pride would only give you someone worthy to choose, you would have another animal to bind to you. The lions are weaker even than the leopards, but if you find a mate among them, they will move up, they will be powerful, and they do not deserve it."



I was beginning to see what his point was, and I even understood why he'd put himself forward as food. "You do everything according to the rules," I said, "and then this metaphysical wild card comes out of nowhere and suddenly animal groups that are weak by your standards have more ties to Jean-Claude. The leopards are a small group, but they're intimate with the vampires, so they're powerful. You think the same thing will happen with the lions."



"Yes," Rafael said.



"You are serious about being Anita's pomme de sang?" Richard said, "because it's the only way you can see getting closer to the power structure."



Rafael nodded and looked at the other man. "I am sorry, my friend, but if I cannot guarantee my people's safety through strength of arms and traditional methods, then I am willing to whore myself for their safety."



"I do not hold the leopards above you in esteem," Jean-Claude said.



"If there was a choice between saving the rats and saving the leopards, who would you choose?"



"There will not be a choice like that," Jean-Claude said.



"Perhaps not, but there might be a choice between the hyenas and the rats. Narcissus is not my friend, and now Asher's animal to call is his people."



"Asher is not master here," Jean-Claude said.



"No, but you love him, have loved him for centuries. That is a powerful bond, Jean-Claude. If Asher whispered sweetly enough, would you deny him and his animals? Or would you side with him over my people?"



"Are you planning on challenging the hyenas to a war?" Jean-Claude asked it almost jokingly. But I knew that tone of voice; it was the tone he used when he was worried he was right.



"No, but we are not animals, any of us," Rafael said.



"Our master would not start a war with you, rat king." This from Remus.



Rafael shook his head. "You are one of the reasons that I fear a war, Remus. When your Oba, your leader, was only recruiting martial artists and weight lifters, pretty muscle that had never known a real fight without referees, I did not worry, but you are the real thing, Remus. He has hired several ex-military, ex-police."



"He did that because of what happened when Chimera took over his men," I said. "Narcissus learned the difference between a bouncer and a soldier. He learned it the hard way. He lost a lot of his men to Chimera."



"And you killed Chimera for him," Rafael said, giving me all the attention of those dark eyes.



"I killed him for all of us. He wouldn't have left the rats alone either."



Rafael came to stand in front of us. I fought the urge to grab Micah's hand. Rafael hadn't done anything threatening, just being six feet tall and standing over us. Usually tall didn't intimidate me, but there was something about him today. Something bad.



"We were too powerful for Chimera to attack, and he did not hold rat lycanthropy in his body."



"He tried to take over several groups that he didn't hold the lycanthropy for," I said.



"If I had any liking for men, I'd offer myself to Jean-Claude and be done with it."



I didn't even try to keep the shock off my face. I did grab Micah's hand, as if the world had gotten shaky and I needed something to cling to. Rafael did not say things like this.



"But men do not interest me, so I do the next best thing. I offer myself to you, Anita. Because you protect those in your bed. And something about you brings power to your lovers. I do not understand it, but Nathaniel is the perfect example of one of the least wereanimals becoming something so much more, just because of you, Anita."



Nathaniel moved to touch my shoulder. I jumped, then eased into the touch, and a little away from this strange version of Rafael. He was afraid. I could feel it.



"What has Narcissus done to make you think your rats are in danger?" Jean-Claude said.



Rafael glanced at him. "What have you heard?"



"Nothing. I give you my word of honor that I have heard nothing, but you are cautious and thoughtful. This is not like you, Rafael; only something serious, and dangerous, could make you come to us like this." Jean-Claude sat down on the couch and said, "Sit with us, eat, and tell us what Narcissus has said or done to make you willing to say such things to ma petite."



Rafael closed his eyes, his hands in fists. "Your word of honor that you don't know. Then it can't be true."



"What cannot be true, mon ami? Talk to us. We are allies and friends; posturing and threats do not become us."



Micah pulled me away from Rafael and closer to the food. We weren't backing away from the rat king; we were just going to eat. Sure, but it saved face, and I was hungry. No matter what emergency was happening, I still hadn't even had coffee. One of the side effects of the ardeur and the almost-lycanthropy was that I couldn't not eat. Not without consequences, like sex I'd regret later, or having my body almost tear itself apart because it couldn't decide what animal it most wanted to be.



We actually got everyone settled with food, and Rafael stopped being all strange and scary. He sat on the love seat with Louie, with his guards at his back. We took the couch. It was big enough that everyone but Nathaniel had a seat. He curled up at my feet and made the scanty leather outfit work for him. The only one in the room who knew how to be more seductive at the drop of a hat was Jean-Claude, and he was all business. Though to him, sometimes seduction was business, but not this morning.



I nibbled on a croissant and a variety of cheese and fruit, and for the dozenth time wondered how to put a real kitchen into the Circus underground. Breakfast takeout was too damn limited. But the coffee was good. I sipped it black, because the first cup should always be black. It's the morning slap in the face that lets you know you're awake.



"Now," said Jean-Claude, "Rafael, my friend, talk to us. What has Narcissus said or done to alarm you so?"



"He said that he would offer himself to Anita as a pomme de sang, and with that, and his tie to your love, Asher, he would be the second most powerful animal group in St. Louis, after the wolves."



"He said this to you?" Jean-Claude asked.



"Not to me personally, no."



"Then how did you hear of it?"



"One of my rats likes the way that Narcissus makes love. Narcissus is beside himself now that Asher's animal to call is hyena. He had offered himself to Asher as Asher's animal to call, and been turned down."



News to me, I thought.



"Asher was flattered," Jean-Claude said, "but we both felt it would make the other groups nervous if Narcissus was so honored."



I fought not to look at Jean-Claude, because shouldn't someone have mentioned it to me? I sipped coffee and tried to keep my face blank, not always my best thing. I drank the coffee too fast to enjoy it, but it kept me from giving anything away, or I hoped it did.



"But Asher goes to Narcissus's club, and he enjoys the entertainment," Rafael said.



Narcissus's club was a bondage and submission club, and entertainment could cover a lot of ground. I hadn't known that Asher was going over there. I know that it feels good to be around your animal. I liked being around the leopards, and the wolves, and even the lions. But... it was like a lot was happening and I'd been out of the loop. I didn't like that.



"Asher enjoys what the club has to offer, but he has turned down Narcissus's more personal offers, again because he thought other animal groups might take it badly if he were to show such favor to Narcissus," Jean-Claude said.



"Narcissus seems to think that it's only a matter of time before Asher gives in to his charms."



"He does not know Asher as well as he believes," Jean-Claude said.



"Asher enjoys the bondage," Rafael said.



Jean-Claude shrugged, that wonderful Gallic movement that meant everything and nothing. Which meant Rafael might be right. Again, news to me. What else was my vampire "master" keeping from me?



"If Narcissus can seduce your Asher, he will do so. He will try to seduce you," Rafael said.



"Narcissus has tried to seduce me in the past. He failed," Jean-Claude said.



"He says the old Master of the City, Nikolaos, gave you to him several times. He has bragged of your body and what he did to it." Rafael studied Jean-Claude's face as he said it, as he'd studied mine. It looked like he was even making eye contact, not always wise with a vampire.



Jean-Claude gave him a lovely, blank face. "He has not bragged to you."



"You are certain of that?" Rafael said.



"Very. He had a tendency to talk during... during. He might have talked of me while he was doing similar things to someone else. In fact, I would be surprised if he had not. He enjoyed comparing and contrasting his lovers, and his victims."



"So you were his lover?"



"No, I was his victim. Nikolaos gave me to him with no safe word, no way to stop him from doing what he wished with me, except my own poor art of persuasion."



Rafael laughed, an abrupt and unhappy sound. "'Poor art,' false modesty from what I hear. Narcissus would give a great deal to have you back as his... victim."



"So he has said."



"He seems confident that Asher is the key to your bed. And if not Asher, then Anita. He believes sincerely that he will find a way to your libido again through them."



Finally something I could address without revealing that I wasn't entirely sure what was happening with Asher and the hyenas. "You don't have to worry about me and Narcissus. He's really not my cup of tea."



Rafael nodded, his face still serious. We couldn't seem to get a smile out of him this morning. "Am I your cup of tea, Anita?"



I felt Richard stiffen beside me. I glanced around him to Jean-Claude. "Can I talk plainly without upsetting the political apple cart here?"



"Talk, and we shall see."



Not a rousing endorsement, but I'd take what I could get. "You're handsome, and if it was a date, we could talk, but you want to skip to sex, and I'm just not that casual about it."



He gave me a look. It was a very judgmental look. I gave him an unhappy look back.



"Yeah, I have a lot of lovers, but they aren't casual lovers, Rafael."



He let out a breath, sipped some coffee, then said, "Perhaps not, but there is something about being your lover that seems to up the power level of every man that you... give yourself to."



"Not true," I said.



"Name a single lover you have had who has not gained power from it."



"I can name three: London, Requiem, and Byron," I said.



"The first two were master vampires before you slept with them. It's hard to judge how much power they arrived in St. Louis with, and how much they may have gained. Byron you slept with only once. Once doesn't seem to be enough." He sat his coffee down on his plate. "Fine, your regular lovers gain power."



"I think you overestimate me."



Rafael handed his plate to Louie, who stood and put it on the coffee table, as if he'd been told to do it. Rafael looked at me. He looked at me as if he would see through me to the other side. It was a look to study, weigh, and measure a person. I tried not to squirm under that gaze, but it was hard work.



"What?" I asked.



He looked at Jean-Claude. "She doesn't know, does she?"



"I am not certain that I know what you mean," Jean-Claude said.



"Jean-Claude, every lover Anita has gains power. Asher was a master vampire in name only, almost, but since he's been in her bed he's gained enough power to have his own territory if he didn't love you both too much to leave. Nathaniel was everyone's victim; now he is becoming someone to be reckoned with. You, personally, have gained more power than you ever dreamed."



"And you believe that it is ma petite who has given me power, not that I have shared my power with her?"



"She has her own triumvirate of power, Jean-Claude. Her own vampire servant in Damian."



"I am not the power behind the throne, Rafael. Trust me, Jean-Claude is plenty powerful enough for both of us."



"He is, but he gained most of that power after you became his lover."



"I gained powers after he made me his servant," I said, "not the other way around."



"I've been talking to some of the wererats in Europe," Rafael said. "They speak of your Belle Morte, the creator of your bloodline. They say that she could give power to her lovers, if she chose."



"Belle Morte does not choose to share power with anyone," Jean-Claude said.



"No, but she can; through sex, she can make her lovers more powerful. Legend has it that once she made kings and emperors through her touch. She changed the face of Europe through her bed."



"She ruled from her bedroom, that is true, but not in the way you think. She chose only the powerful, only those who could give her something she wanted. And I did not gain power in her bed. I was her pawn for centuries. As was Asher."



"Masters of the City often kill their own vampire children if they become too powerful, true?" Rafael said.



"Some do."



"But isn't it strange that so many of the vampires who were nearly powerless around Belle Morte have gained power the longer they are away from her?"



"What are you saying, Rafael?"



"I have heard rumors that some masters can retard the powers of their followers."



"Some can, but I do not believe Belle is one of them."



"Why not?"



He gave that shrug again.



Frankly, the rats were a little too well informed for comfort. I'd seen a master vampire gain new powers once in America and far enough away from his old master. But I wasn't sure it was on purpose; I'd actually begun to wonder if some powerful masters gave off a sort of hormone that retarded the power of those around them. No way to test it, but I'd seen some of what Rafael was saying.



"There are rats in every city," Sampson said, and like last time it was as if we'd all forgotten him.



Rafael nodded. "There are."



I had this image of hundreds of rats scampering in the walls, hearing things, and what they heard, the rat king heard. Did it work that way? For real? I wanted to ask, but in this mood, I wasn't sure how he'd take the question.



"I am the son of two powers, but you did not concern yourself that you had insulted me," Sampson said.



"I don't know what you are to Jean-Claude and Anita."



"So you would ignore me, and see if it got a reaction?"



Rafael nodded.



"I am the next lover in line for Anita."



"Why have you waited so long?"



"It is the lady's privilege to keep a man waiting."



They were supposed to be talking about me, but it was like I was missing the conversation, or not truly understanding it all.



"Would you allow me to jump ahead of you in line?"



Sampson shook his head. "No."



He looked at Jean-Claude. "Is this your final word, that the sea king's son is more important than I am, than my rats are, to you?"



"That is not what is being said here, Rafael," Jean-Claude said.



"I believe that any animal that comes to your bed, or Anita's bed, is more important to you, Jean-Claude. Deny it if you like, but the proof is in the pudding, eh?"



"The proof is in the eating of it," Jean-Claude said, "for all puddings look sweet."



"Do I or any of my people look sweet to you?" he asked.



I felt Claudia's reaction from across the room. A flare of power, like a metaphysical slap to remind us how really powerful she was. That one splash of heated energy said loud and clear that it didn't matter how tasty anyone thought she was, she wasn't playing.



Rafael let out a careful breath and rotated his neck, as if that slap of energy had been more energetic the closer you'd been to it. "I would not force any of my rats into someone's bed. But if some would choose it, would you take them as blood or flesh donors?"



"Define flesh," I said.



"Sex," he said.



Richard shifted beside me on the couch. "The rats don't give blood to anyone. It was one of your first rules as king. Nikolaos tortured you because you forbade your rats to feed her vampires."



"She was unstable, and farther away from her was safer for my people. Closer to Jean-Claude seems safer."



"You'd really let your rats be blood whores?" Richard sounded almost shocked.



"I would."



"You think that if some of your rats come into our bedrooms, your people will be that much safer?" Micah asked.



"If our positions were reversed, what would you do?"



"Not this," Richard said.



"I am asking the Nimir-Raj," Rafael said.



Richard shifted uncomfortably on one side of me while Micah seemed to settle back more comfortably. "I've already done what you're suggesting."



Rafael nodded. "You offered yourself to Anita and Jean-Claude and now your pard, though one of the smallest groups in the area, is one of the most secure groups in all of St. Louis. How many of your leopards donate blood to the vampires?"



"Most of them."



Rafael spread his hands, as if to say, See?



I wanted to argue with them, but I tried to be honest. Was his reasoning sound? Through us, Micah was in charge of the furry coalition hotline, which meant he was beginning to be the go-to guy for most of the lycanthropy community. He was the liaison between us and the larger community. His television time was even going up. He gave good sound bite.



The leopards had fewer members than almost any other group, yet no one messed with them. Because I, or Jean-Claude, or our people, kept killing anyone who fucked with them.



I looked at the rat king. "Damn," I said, softly.



"Yes," he said.



I glanced down the couch at Richard and Jean-Claude. "He's not wrong, is he?"



"I cannot argue with some of his reasoning," Jean-Claude said.



"No," Richard said, "he's not right."



"I didn't say he was right, Richard, just that he's not wrong," I said.



"That makes no sense. If Rafael isn't wrong, then he has to be right." Richard turned his body so he was facing me, and blocked my view of Jean-Claude - those broad shoulders of his getting in the way.



"He's right that our lovers are safer. He's wrong if he thinks we'd leave the rats out to dry if someone threatened them."



"You are tied to us only by money and contracts," Rafael said. "I would feel better if you were tied with more intimate things."



"You have our word that we will honor our treaty with you," Jean-Claude said.



"But you have a treaty with the hyenas, as well, and I do not believe that Asher will keep refusing the bounty that Narcissus is shoving at him."



"Do not make the mistake of thinking Asher is weak. He is not," Jean-Claude said.



"You are in love with him; you do not see him clearly."



"I could say to you that you are not in love with him, and you do not see him clearly because of it."



"Order him not to be intimate with the hyenas and I will be content with it."



"I would rather not give such an order," Jean-Claude said.



"You have no right to ask that of Jean-Claude, or Asher," Micah said.



"What would you do if you were me, Nimir-Raj?"



"I would have offered myself less confrontationally. If refused, I'd have offered others of my people until some became food and hopefully one, or more, would catch someone's eye for sex."



"Am I going about this wrong?"



"Yes."



"It is an area of politics I am unprepared for," Rafael said. "Teach me, Micah. Help me."



Micah sighed. He scooted to the edge of the couch and looked past Richard to Jean-Claude. "What do you want me to do?"



"Help him, if you can."



Micah leaned back and looked at me. He just looked at me, and the look was enough between us. I shrugged and said, "Help him, I guess."



Micah settled back against the couch and put an arm across my shoulders, which made Richard move a little farther away. I don't think Micah meant to make Richard move. I think he wanted to touch me, and after last night there'd been the possibility that Richard wouldn't mind an accidental touch. But apparently Rafael's issues had raised some of Richard's own. Hell, it had raised some of mine. I just wasn't sure which ones yet.



"Blood donors would be welcome," Micah said, "and some of your rats have already offered to feed the ardeur for Anita."



"But she has touched none of them," Rafael said.



"You haven't sent her anyone she likes enough, yet."



"Help me pick them."



"Guys," I said, "guys, I am still sitting right here, okay? Don't talk about me like I'm not here."



"Then you pick," he said.



I slumped and let my hair hide my face. Shit. "That isn't what I meant."



"She likes pretty men," Richard said, "and that's not what you hire for."



I looked up at him, sitting right beside me, talking about what kind of man I liked. "I thought you'd be having a fit about this," I said.



He frowned, but said, "I don't like it, but Rafael is right, about us keeping our lovers closer and safer."



"If you care for someone enough to have sex with them, then you're supposed to take care of them," I said.



"Exactly," Richard said. "It's how you feel about it."



"And what's wrong with the way I feel about it?"



"Nothing," he said, "but it means Rafael is right. You do take care of your lovers. You just do."



"Don't you?" I asked.



He looked surprised for a second, then gave a smile that left his eyes tired and more cynical than I'd ever seen him. "No, sometimes it's just about fucking."



I gave him wide eyes.



"I'd love it to always be hearts and flowers, but the one woman I love more than any other doesn't want me, so what am I supposed to do while you sleep with six or seven other guys? Wait my turn? Watch?"



We had company, or I might have pointed out to him that he had watched before, and he had waited his turn, and he'd even helped Jean-Claude make love to me. But we had company, and I didn't want to fight with him.



"So you don't take care of everyone that comes to your bed?"



"I take care of my wolves, but if they aren't pack, sometimes the sex proves that it won't work."



"So you break up with them after the sex?"



"Sometimes."



I gave him a look.



"You know who I keep comparing them to, Anita."



It wasn't my fault that I didn't want to marry Richard. I was allowed to want the men I wanted, and love who I wanted. "So it's my fault that you're sleeping around, and that you've turned into one of those men who break up with a woman after one night of sex?"



He gave me a long look out of those chocolate-brown eyes. "If the shoe fits..." he said, with an unpleasant smile.



I guess we were going to fight after all. "It isn't me you keep comparing everybody to, Richard, it's Raina."



He actually blushed under the permanent tan of his skin. It was maybe the second time I'd ever seen him blush. "Don't, Anita."



Micah had gone very still beside me, as if he were wondering if he should take his arm out from between us.



"You back off of me, and I'll back off of you," I said.



"Richard," it was Louie, "we had this talk, remember?"



Richard stood up, and his power washed around the room like a wind from the mouth of hell. It actually hurt where it touched. "I remember the talk." He stared down at me, and there was such hatred on his face. "I tried last night, Anita, I really tried."



My throat was tight, and my eyes burned. I was already regretting what I'd said, would have done anything to take it back. "I know you did, Richard." My voice sounded small.



"But it's never enough, is it?"



I took a deep breath and stood up. We faced each other. I wanted to run away, but I stood there and watched the hate and pain on his face, the way his big hands kept flexing into fists. His anger breathed through the room like some sort of invisible burning beast.



"I don't know what to say, Richard."



"What would be enough?" he asked.



"What?" I asked.



"What would be enough? Move in with you and Micah and Nathaniel? Move in here with you and Jean-Claude? What do I have to do to win with you, Anita?"



"It isn't about winning, Richard. God, don't you understand that?"



"No," he said, "I don't." He pointed at Jean-Claude. "Him I get. I feel his pull, too. He's my master, too." He pointed at Micah. "But him, I don't get him. He's in my place in your life, don't you understand that?"



I nodded, and tried to breathe past the tight burning in my throat and eyes. I would not cry, damn it. "I understand that," I said.



He pointed at Nathaniel, who'd gone very still beside the couch. "How can you share her with that?"



It was Micah who figured out that he was the one Richard was talking to. "Nathaniel is not a that, Richard." Micah's voice held a thread of anger.



"Do you fuck him? Do you let him fuck you? Or do you just fuck Anita at the same time?"



The unshed tears were going away on a hot wave of anger. I fed the anger, embraced it, called it sweet names, because I'd rather fight than cry.



"The way you and Jean..." I started to say.



Jean-Claude called the fight. He called it with a push of power that staggered both of us. I nearly fell, and Richard looked ashen. We both turned and looked at the vampire. His eyes were glittering blue pools, like the night sky was on fire.



"Enough of this." His voice whispered through the room like an echo of bats, bouncing off the curtains.



I knew he was our master, but I'd never felt him do anything like this to us. Never felt him simply throw his power into us and stop us in our tracks. I hadn't known he had it in him.



"We are in danger here, do you not understand that? Most of our guards are wererats. If Rafael pulls them out, we do not have enough guards to keep ourselves safe." He uncurled from the couch and walked toward us, his long black curls moving in the wind of his own power.



We watched him come toward us like small birds that wanted to fly from the snake, but couldn't make ourselves move.



"I am sorry, mon lupe, that you wish her to marry you and abandon the rest of us. I am sorry, ma petite, that you still love him, and that some part of you wishes you could do exactly what he wants. I am sorry that I have bound you together into such pain. But there is no time for this. We need Rafael and his people. He knows that, or he would not have come like this." Jean-Claude stood in front of us, and his power pushed so that I swayed in the wind of it. I knew he'd gained in power, but I hadn't understood, until that moment, just how much. "I will pick a blood donor among the rats. I will urge others of my vampires to do the same. You, ma petite, must choose one of his people for food. You must embrace Sampson, or do something for him that will allow his honor to step aside and let you take one of the wererats ahead of him as food for your ardeur."



He stopped in front of us, close enough that he could have touched us. For the first time in years, I prayed that he wouldn't touch me. If he did, I'd do anything he asked.



He touched Richard's arm, and he shuddered under that light touch. He closed his eyes and swayed. I touched Richard's other arm, and I thought, No. No, don't do this.



My necromancy opened inside me in a rush that left me wide-eyed, open-mouthed. Because it wasn't just my necromancy. I felt it like an offering to Jean-Claude. If he could figure out how to use it, it was his to command while he touched us.



Richard breathed, "Don't, please, don't."



I wasn't sure which of us he was talking to. I stared at Jean-Claude, and felt my eyes go. I saw the room through that vampiric flame, but it wasn't someone else's powers taking over my eyes, it was me. If there'd been a mirror I knew my eyes would have been filled with a black-brown light of my own eyes, as if I were the vampire.



Richard collapsed to his knees between us, with our hands still on his arms. He whispered, "Oh, God." I looked down at him, and he gazed up at me with eyes turned to brown flame. Not my fire taking over him, but his own true brown eyes turned to vampire fire.