Deadly Desire

Chapter Seven

"How long ago was this?" I asked, grabbing my old leather jacket from the back of the chair. Though it was actually Rhoan's old leather jacket, I'd recently liberated it.

"Five minutes, if that."

"What happened to Joe and the guardian minding him?"

"We don't know." His expression was grim. "Jacques isn't answering, nor is he picking up the phone."

"Then how do you know about the attack?" I grabbed my car keys and purse and headed for the door as I spoke.

"Because unlike some guardians, Jacques has his com-unit on during all working hours. He managed a quick report before things went silent." Jack stepped to one side to let me through the door, then fell in step beside me as I walked toward the elevators. "Two zombies apparently crashed through the front door. Jacques killed one, but then everything went silent."

I frowned as I punched the elevator call button. "But Jacques is a vamp. Surely he would have been able to cope with a couple of zombies?"

"I would have thought so. The bigger question is, though, how the fuck did these people even know where to go?"

The elevator doors opened and I stepped inside. "What about the magic on the business card?"

Jack put his hand against the door to stop it from closing. "By the time Marg got to the warehouse and the card, the magic had faded. She said that the same would probably happen with any tracking magic that had been transferred onto people."

"Obviously not, because the zombies found Joe." I hesitated. "I've touched the thing, too, so theoretically, she could track me."

"I'll get the magi working on a blocker. In the meantime, turn on your com-unit and let me know the minute you get to the safe house."

"Will do, boss."

He stepped back and let the doors close, and I flicked the little button inside my earlobe, as ordered.

I made it to the safe house in record time, thanks mainly to the fact that there was little traffic. I parked the car in the driveway of the pretty, double-story cottage, but the minute I climbed out, the scent of blood hit. It was thick and fresh, but it had the stench of evil and decaying flesh entwined within it. And it was strong enough that the wolf within wanted to bare her teeth.

Which meant that the zombie might still be here.

I reached back into the car for my laser, shoving it in my back pocket before quietly closing the door. I couldn't see any crows about, so if the zombies were in there they mightn't be anything more than a lump of unresponsive flesh. But I wasn't about to bet my life on that. Who knew what sort of orders the sorceress had given it? And given she was capable of telepathic contact with her creations, she probably didn't need to be in the vicinity for them to create havoc.

I scooted around the front of the car, ducking past the front windows then running to the door. It was smashed in, lying in splinters on the floor, a clear indicator of just how much strength these creatures had.

The air flowing out of the house was heavy with the scent of decay, blood, and evil. Bile rushed up my throat and I gagged, unable for the moment to force my feet inside. God, the stench was vile. And considering my wolf soul generally liked rolling around in all things rotten, that was saying something.

Once my stomach was a little more under control, I stepped cautiously inside, breathing through my mouth as I looked around. The hallway was empty of anyone living or dead, but awareness skittered across my skin. Magic, death, violence-it all lay waiting in the room to my left.

I heard nothing other than the gentle ticking of a clock. There was no breathing, and no sign of life, in the immediate vicinity. Only the scent of new death.

And yet… I wasn't alone in this place.

Someone was here. Someone other than the zombies.

Maybe Jacques was still alive. Maybe Joe was. A street kid would have the smarts to get the hell out of Dodge when death came calling.

Or maybe it was neither of them. Maybe it was the sorceress waiting to spring her trap.

I grabbed my laser from my back pocket and switched it on. The soft whine as it powered up filled the edgy silence, but nothing or no one moved as a result of it. If the zombie master was here, then she wasn't too worried by the weapon.

I crept forward, my footsteps soft on the dusty floorboards. At the doorway into the living room I stopped, back against the wall and nostrils flaring as I sought to capture some of the room's fainter scents. It was pretty much useless-the aroma of death and evil was just too great for my senses to handle. And it didn't do my stomach a whole lot of good, either.

I licked suddenly dry lips, then slipped low and fast into the room, laser raised as I scanned for trouble.

Only the broken remnants of life remained as a reminder of its presence.

Like our previous vamp victims, Jacques had lost his head. It had rolled to one side of the champagne-colored sofa, his blue eyes staring at what remained of his body. Unlike the others, though, his torso was intact, and his blood had created a wide dark pool around his body. There were also arterial sprays up the wall. Obviously, the sorceress had no intention-or no time-to save the blood from this kill. Meaning this was probably a straight vampire kill rather than some form of bloody retribution.

Not far from his feet lay a zombie. Its head was laying at an odd angle and all its limbs seemed to have been broken. Even so it lived, because its fingers were twitching against the carpet, as if it were trying to drag itself forward. Maybe it didn't realize its partner had already completed their mission.

That partner was close. The overriding scent of death and decay might be playing havoc with my olfactory senses, but my psychic senses were in fine working order and they were tingling with awareness. Of course, they didn't actually tell me what was in the house with me. That would be far too helpful.

I crept forward, carefully avoiding the blood. Jacques's dead gaze seemed to follow me and chills ran down my spine. The closer I got to the body, the stronger the scent of evil became. It seemed to be centered around Jacques himself, and yet he wasn't evil. I'd met him-talked to him-many times at the Directorate, and never once had I received this sort of feedback.

So why was I getting it now?

My gaze scanned the floor around him. Maybe it was the dust. It was on his face and sprinkled across the carpet, and given that the dust had also been present at the vamp murders, there had to be a connection. And yet here it felt slightly different. There was another scent entwined within the evil of it, and it was different from the aroma so evident at the other vamp murders.

But I didn't have the time to stand here and examine it. I had to find Joe. Had to find out who, or what, was in this house with me.

I went through the next doorway fast and found myself in the kitchen. There were vegetables on the counter and a pot of water bubbling away on the stove.

The scent of evil and decay wasn't as strong here, suggesting the zombie and whoever was controlling him hadn't come this far. I checked the next doorway anyway-it turned out to be a small laundry area. There were clothes dumped on the top of the washer, and they smelled of Joe.

I retreated back through the kitchen and then the living room, and out into the hall. The stairs waited, leading up into the silence of the next floor. I climbed slowly, keeping my back to the wall and my laser aimed at the level above me.

Nothing jumped out at me. Nothing moved.

Yet the certainty that something or someone was up here grew, and tension twined through my muscles, making my fingers twitch against the laser's trigger. The weapon whined, the sound resting uneasily against the silence.

I reached the landing and stopped. Shadows filled the upper hallway, but nothing waited within. Four doors led off this corridor-three to the left, and one to the right, beyond the stairwell.

I went through the first doorway low, dropping to one knee, laser held at the ready as I scanned the room. It was a bedroom, and smelled more like Jacques than Joe. Not that he would have been using the bed. Vampires didn't actually need to sleep, even during the day. They just needed to keep out of direct sunlight, which is why vamps made good guards in these sorts of situations-as long as you kept them fed. Otherwise, snacking on the neck of the person they were supposed to be protecting became something of an issue.

I moved back out into the hall and into the next room. Another bedroom, and one that smelled like Joe. He wasn't here though, and neither was the source of the evil I was still sensing.

Which left two rooms.

Two rooms with their doors opposite each other.

I didn't like it, even though I couldn't sense anything living in either of those rooms. I couldn't sense anything dead, either, though I sure as hell was smelling it.

And the magic-it was much stronger here. It burned across my skin-a foul thing that made me want to take a shower and wash the sensation away.

Something waited in one of those two rooms. Something that had evil on its mind.

For all of two seconds I thought about firing the laser through the walls into both rooms, doing a sweep, and killing whatever waited in either of them. But I had no idea where Joe was-if he was still alive, that is-and until I did know, I couldn't risk anything that might kill him. And a random laser shot would certainly do that.

I flared my nostrils again and sucked in the scents surrounding me, but there was just no sorting through the sheer depths of evil and decay that filled the air. So it was a fifty-fifty proposition that I'd choose the wrong room, no matter which way I went.

I paused for a second longer, then went left, choosing what looked like the bathroom over the bedroom. I went low and fast, rolling through the doorway and coming up on one knee, the laser aimed and ready to fire. Nothing attacked me. In fact, no one was even in the room… or was there?

Feeling something, I looked up. A hatchway sat above the basin, and there were fresh fingerprints etched into the dust. Someone had moved it recently.

A street kid desperate to escape the newly risen dead, perhaps?

I stepped toward the basin, and in that moment, as the rush of an oncoming wind stirred the hairs along the back of my neck, realized I'd picked the wrong room.

I spun, but before I could fire, the zombie threw something at me. I ducked automatically, and felt a quick flash of amusement as it turned out to be nothing more than dust.

Then the thick cloud settled around me, clogging my eyes and catching in my throat, making me cough violently, and the amusement died.

Because it smelled foul.

As foul as the thing before me.

As foul as the magic evident near Jacques.

The zombie lurched forward and grabbed my hand, its dead flesh surprisingly strong as it wrested the laser from fingers that were somehow half numb.

In fact, all of me was tingling, my muscles feeling spongy. It was the strangest sensation, like half of me wanted to sleep and the other half was fighting it.

The laser got thrown-clattering to the floor somewhere in the hall-then there were dead fingers around my neck and fetid breath on my face. Through the tears streaming from my eyes, I could see the grin stretching his rotting flesh. Could feel the force of the woman behind it.

The bitch thought she and her creature had me.

How little she knew.

I raised my arms and knocked the zombie's hands away from my throat, then pushed him, as hard as I could, out the door. He stumbled backward, arms flailing as he tried to catch his balance, bits of flesh and God knows what else flying free as he hit the door frame and went down.

I twisted around, quickly turning on the tap and splashing water over my face. The burning eased a little, and though my eyes were still streaming, I could at least see a little better. Behind me, the zombie was scrambling to his feet. I ran at him, at the last moment launching in the air, hitting him hard in the chest, my boot heel sinking into rotting flesh, but the force of my leap enough to send him sprawling back against the wall. As I hit the floor and rolled back to my feet, there was a wet-sounding thump. I looked up to see the zombie sliding down the wall, leaving bits of hair and flesh and other things dribbling down the wall after him.

But he was still moving, still trying to attack.

Still being controlled by the sorceress.

I looked around and saw my laser in the corner. I ran for it, quickly grabbing it as the zombie's footsteps echoed behind me. I swung and fired without really looking, sweeping across the creature's legs and dropping him like a wet sponge.

It didn't stop him.

He simply crawled after me.

I raised the laser to hit him again, but didn't pull the trigger. This time I attacked psychically, diving deep down, into the darkness that had once been this thing's mind, once again feeling nothing more than the chill of death and a decaying emptiness.

But the sorceress lay in the deeper recesses, and she was whispering words of command and hate. Kill it, kill it, it doesn't deserve to live, kill it…

It? I obviously wasn't an "it," but I let it go as I wrapped a psychic rope around her presence and pulled it tight.

Shock rolled through the darkness, and then she was fighting, struggling, like a mad thing. A fierce ache formed behind my eyes as I fought to hold her, and the sweat already rolling down my cheek became a river.

"Tell me who you are," I said, both out loud and within. "Tell me why you're doing this."

Even as I said it, I attacked her, trying to rip past her shields and grab the answers. But it was taking all my strength to hold her, and I just didn't have enough left to break her shields.

She didn't answer, just continued to struggle. Then something grabbed my leg and yanked me hard. I yelped as I went down, my butt hitting the floor hard and sending pain jarring up my spine. My control over the sorceress snapped, and she was gone instantly, leaving her creature to carry out her last command-attacking me.

I kicked out with a boot heel, squashing his nose back into his rotting flesh, then rolled away, climbing to one knee and firing the laser, cutting off his head with one swift slice. Without the remnants of his brain and the orders planted within it, the creature stopped moving. I don't think he was dead, as such, but I didn't think he was dangerous anymore.

I stepped over him, the tingling in my legs once again evident now that the adrenaline from the attack was fading. I had no idea what it was, though it obviously was designed to stop me somehow. And if that stuff had been used on Jacques and the other victims, then maybe that explained why they hadn't put up much of a fight before they were hacked to pieces.

Though why had it only partially affected me? What was so different about me that I'd been able to fight back and the others hadn't?

There was only one reason I could think of. I was half vampire, while the other were all full-bloods. A powder designed solely to stop them probably wouldn't work on me the exact same way, thanks to my werewolf heritage.

Of course, I wouldn't know for sure if I was right until I talked to the magi, but I very much suspected I was on the proper track. It was the only thing that made sense.

I walked back to the end of the hallway and checked the remaining bedroom. Nothing and no one else was there. I moved back into the bathroom and stood on the edge of the bath, shoving the hatchway cover to one side. "Joe, are you up there?"

No answer came, but that didn't surprise me. Any kid with half a brain wouldn't come out of hiding on first hearing a familiar voice. Especially after what he'd just witnessed.

"Joe, it really is me." I grabbed my badge and held it up into the hole. "Here's my ID."

There was no response for several seconds, then came a shuffle of movement, and suddenly the scent of man and fear wafted down through the hatchway. It was Joe, all right.

"Are those things dead?" he asked.

"Yes." Although technically they probably weren't. Not until the magi came in and removed whatever spell the sorceress had used to raise them.

"They killed Jacques."

"I know. You coming down?"

A pale face appeared briefly in the hatchway, and the tension lining his bright eyes eased a little when he saw that it really was me. His feet replaced his face, and he slithered through the hole and dropped to the floor.

"I couldn't help him," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I just couldn't."

He wasn't meeting my eyes and his expression was a mix of defiance and guilt.

"Jacques was here to protect you, not the other way around. He died in that duty. It's not your fault or your responsibility. Besides, if you hadn't hidden, you might be dead right alongside him."

He shivered and rubbed his arms. "Are those the things that killed Kaz?"

"The same sort of creatures, yes." I touched his back and guided him out the door. He hesitated the moment he saw the zombie, then squared his shoulders and continued on, stepping over the creature like it was something he saw every day.

From downstairs came the sound of soft steps. I touched Joe on the shoulder to stop him, then slipped past him to the small landing halfway down.

I needn't have worried. It was Cole and his team.

"What have we got this time?" He'd stopped in the hallway, his gaze on the living room rather than on me.

"Jacques and one zombie are in the living room, and there's a decapitated zombie upstairs. Both creatures will probably need Marg's magic touch before they can be put back into the ground. We also have more dust-and I discovered what it does."

"Oh? Do tell."

"It freezes vampires."

"That makes events at the crime scenes more logical." He looked beyond me. "Who's that?"

"Joe, the kid we're protecting. I'm about to take him back to the Directorate."

"Really?" Joe said, his voice containing an edge of excitement as his face appeared over the railing.

"It's not that interesting," Cole said dryly.

"It is when I'm there," I said with a grin.

He snorted and glanced at his team. "We'd better get moving, boys. The bullshit meter is starting to run a little high in this hallway."

Cole and Dobbs walked into the living room. Dusty remained near the door and began setting up a crime-scene monitor. I glanced up at Joe. "Let's go."

"This is going to be cool," he said, bouncing down the stairs.

"Yeah," I said, and hoped like hell Jack thought so.

Jack didn't. Neither did Sal, who ended up with the task of keeping the teenager in line and safe. Although if the kid wasn't safe in a building filled with guardians, then he wasn't going to be safe anywhere.

"You know I don't like civilians down here," Jack said, tossing something my way as he walked back into the day shift's office area.

"I didn't have much other choice, boss." I caught the item with my free hand. It turned out to be a bracelet of twined rope and what looked like dried leaves of some variety. My fingers tingled at contact with it, but it was a cleaner, safer-feeling magic than whatever the sorceress was using. "This from Marg and her team?"

"Yep. The kid will be given one, too. If there's any residual tracking magic left on you, this should stop it."

I slipped it over my left wrist, then handed him the sweater I'd been wearing. "You might want to give them this. The zombie threw some sort of dust at me when he first appeared, and I suspect it was designed to immobilize vampires. I think my werewolf half saved me from the full effects of it."

He took the bundled-up sweater carefully. "If that's true, then it explains why no one has fought back."

"Certainly does." I walked across to my desk and sat down. "Did Marg say anything about how these people are getting in and out of these places?"

"She suspects the killer is using some form of transport magic to get in, but there hasn't been enough of it remaining at any of the sites for her to track down the type of spell being used."

"Bummer."

"Yeah." He glanced at his watch. "It's full moon for you tonight, isn't it?"

"Certainly is." And Rhoan, Liander, and I all planned to head up to Macedon and the strip of land Dia's clone brother, Misha, had left me when he'd died. It was huge and wild, and just about perfect for werewolves to run free without the worry of upsetting or spooking anyone.

Jack grunted. "It's useless trying to get much more out of you today, then. Finish up here, then go home." He half turned away, then stopped. "What are your dancing skills like?"

"I'm a werewolf," I said dryly. "Dancing is my life."

"Not that sort of dancing. Regular dancing, no sex involved."

"Where's the fun in that?" I grinned as his expression darkened. "I do the regular dancing pretty darn good, too."

"Good enough to be employed at a men's club?"

I hesitated. Having never been inside a men's club, I didn't actually know what sort of dancing went on in there. "I know someone who can give me a few pointers."

"Good. Arrange it. You might have to go undercover at the club if Kade doesn't sniff out anything tonight." He turned and left the room.

I signed into my computer and checked the results of the two searches. It turned out that neither of the women who owned Meinhardt's had either a police or a Directorate record, but interestingly enough, there were at least a dozen unsolved vampire murders in each state over the time they'd owned their business.

Another coincidence?

Given that these murders had happened in five other states already, I'd have to say coincidence was very unlikely. I copied the results through to Jack, then rang Ben to ask if one of his girls could give me a lesson in the finer art of strip-club dancing. I jotted down her name and address, then finished my coffee in several gulps and headed out the door.

Liander and Rhoan were both waiting for me when I got home. Rhoan's hair had been shaved for his undercover job, and his baldness was something of a shock. Oddly enough, it did actually suit him-he had a good-shaped head for being bald.

We headed up to Macedon, getting there just as the sun was setting. We stripped as the darkness swept in, bringing with it the heat of the full moon that hadn't yet risen. It tingled across my body-a power that would not be denied and would not be controlled on this one night. It swept us from human form to wolf in one surge, and with a howl in our throats and the earth between our paws, we ran. Embracing the night, embracing what we were, enjoying the freedom and the fun of running and hunting.

With dawn came exhaustion and our human forms, so we snuggled up beside each other and slept.

A ringing cell phone woke me some hours later. Liander made a groaning noise of acknowledgment but didn't seem inclined to answer it, and Rhoan was still snoring.

I rolled onto my back, shivering a little as the coldness of the morning hit newly exposed skin, then climbed to my feet and stumbled across to the pile of clothes, sorting through them until I found my jeans and the phone within them.

"Yeah?" I said, rubbing my eyes and looking up at the blue sky. The position of the sun said it had to be at least ten.

"Do you feel like breakfast after your moonlit adventures?" Quinn said, his voice so warm it sent a delicious tingle running through my body.

"Certainly do. But we're up at Macedon-"

"Which has a lovely little cafe that serves not only fabulous coffee, but a breakfast big enough to satisfy even the hungriest of werewolves," he said. "Get dressed. I'll be there in five."

"You know, if you were a werewolf, you could almost be the perfect man."

"There's no 'almost' about it, woman."

I grinned. "I'll be waiting near the gate."

I hung up, then hurriedly got dressed, unable to stop the silly grin that kept playing about my lips. Quinn might not be a werewolf, and therefore not a contender to be the mate my wolf soul had been longing for, but there was no denying how good he made me feel. Or how much I looked forward to being with him. And as much as I had loved Kellen, our relationship hadn't been like this. Hadn't made me feel like this. Which maybe meant that I'd been in love with the idea of him being a werewolf and therefore a real mate prospect more than I'd actually been in love.

He'd been right in walking away. I could see that now, even if it hurt like hell at the time.

Once dressed, I walked over to the tangled pile that was Rhoan and Liander, and gently toed Liander's side. The angry redness of his scars had long faded, but he'd always wear the puckered reminders of the day a madman decided to gut him. It still made me shiver when I remembered how close we'd come to losing him.

He didn't respond so I nudged him again. This time, he groaned softly and opened a bleary eye. "This is not what I call a decent hour to get up. Wake me in another five hours."

"Quinn's picking me up and we're going to breakfast. I've left the car keys in your coat pocket."

"Have fun," he muttered as his eyes drifted closed.

Making me wonder if he'd even remember me talking to him when he eventually woke up properly. I shook my head and made my way through the trees, sucking in the clean mountain air and the delicious scent of eucalyptus and pine. The more time I spent up here, the more I appreciated the gift Misha had given me. This place was freedom-and it would also have been the perfect place to bring up a family.

I thrust the thought-and the resulting angst the knowledge that I might never have the one thing I'd always dreamed of-away, and climbed the old metal gate, sitting on top of it as I waited for my vampire and his flashy red Ferrari.

I leaned back in my chair with a contented sigh and gave Quinn a smile. "That definitely hit the spot."

He glanced down at the three plates that I'd all but licked clean, then said, with a smile touching his luscious lips, "If there's one thing I've always admired about werewolves, it's their appetite."

A smile teased my lips. "And here I was thinking you were all darkly disapproving of a werewolf's appetite."

"Only when that appetite isn't aimed in the right direction."

I leaned forward again and crossed my arms on the table. I was wearing a low cut, V-necked T-shirt, so the action exposed not only the blue lace of my bra, but a rather large amount of breast. "The right direction being you, and only you?"

"In your case, yes." His gaze slithered downward briefly before rising, and the smile became full blown. The heat of it just about blew my socks off. "And you surely can't blame me for wanting to keep your luscious body all to myself. Any man with any sense would want to do the same."

Which left me with the perfect opening to bring up the problem of his feeding. I blew out a breath, then said, "That's something we need to talk about."

His warm smile faded as he studied me for a moment, and part of me mourned its loss.

"This sounds serious."

"It is."

"Then wait a moment while I grab a coffee to fortify myself." He signaled to the waiter, who bought over the coffee pot and filled up his mug. Quinn picked it up and took a sip, then his dark gaze met mine. "Okay, fire away."

I blew out another breath. "Several people over the last couple of days have commented on how pale I look."

He raised a dark eyebrow. "You have a vampire feeding on you nightly. It's natural that you're going to look a little paler."

"Yeah, but the problem is that it's not just the paleness. I've been dizzy on several occasions, and I've been lucky that it hasn't had disastrous consequences." I hesitated, then added, "Now, I'm not entirely convinced it's your feeding causing this, because my psychic talents seem to be rapidly developing new and interesting twists right now, but I still think it's something we need to discuss."

He frowned. "If it is the feeding, then I'm sorry. I didn't realize-"

"It's not your fault," I interrupted quickly. "Not entirely. I should have said something the minute I realized the feedings might be affecting me."

"I didn't think they would." He took another sip of coffee, his expression as neutral as I'd ever seen it, then said, "Generally, a werewolf's quick recuperation powers enable them to recover more quickly than mortals."

"And it does." I gave him a lopsided smile. "I'm gathering there are not many mortals who could take a vampire feeding off them three or four times a night for several nights on end."

"No." He put down his coffee then reached forward and wrapped his hands around mine. His fingers were warm, filled with a strength that was comforting. "Trouble is, when I have sex, I feed. I can't not feed. It's a part of the whole equation for me."

"And you reckon we werewolves are addicted to sex."

He smiled, but the seriousness in his eyes stopped my lips from echoing his. "It's not an addiction, but a necessity. You're currently my only partner, Riley, so therefore my only source of food."

"And therein lies our problem, I think." I gave his hands a squeeze, then pulled mine away and picked up my coffee. Despite the need to talk about this, my hands were shaking. Part of me feared his reaction to what I was about to say. We'd been in this sort of situation so often before-even if the reasons had been completely different-and it had always ended with one or the other of us storming off in anger. I'd like to say we'd both grown since then, but the truth was, I doubted it. Ingrained reactions never really changed-not when there were emotions involved.

And there were definitely emotions involved here-his and mine.

"I don't want to take other partners, Riley." He studied me for a minute, then added, "Do you?"

I raised an eyebrow, and pretended not to understand the intent behind that question. "Do I want you to take other partners? I wouldn't be suggesting it if I thought it was a bad thing."

Something flickered in his eyes. Annoyance, and just a touch of hurt. "So there'd be no feeling of jealously? No feeling of hurt if I was with another woman?"

I opened my mouth to say no, of course not, then actually thought about it. And the truth is, I just didn't know. My wolf soul might have free and easy attitudes when it came to sex, but I'd had Quinn to myself for a few weeks now, and the truth was, I liked it. More than I'd ever thought I would.

"I've never really been in that situation with you," I said. "You've been something of a steamroller in your seduction attempts, and I've always been busy turning a blind eye to what lay between us. We never had what could be termed a normal courtship, so I've never had to face the situation of seeing you with someone else. But I am a wolf, above all else, and no matter what else you might be to me, you will never be that!"

The smile that touched his lips held a slightly bitter edge. "That's the second time today you've mentioned that."

"Because it is important. It's what I am." I hesitated, then added softly, "And it's what I desire, above everything else."

He leaned back in his chair. "So we're back to that old chestnut."

Annoyance surged, but I didn't say anything. I really didn't want to get into another argument-and I would, if I opened my mouth at that particular moment.

He stared at me for several long minutes, his face showing nothing but blankness. Yet his dark eyes fairly burned with emotion. Or maybe it just seemed that way to me because I was so in tune with the man.

"So what is it you're actually suggesting?"

"That you take other lovers when you're up in Sydney, and that you supplement your feedings with synth blood when you're here in Melbourne with me. I can't afford to get dizzy and weak in my line of work, Quinn. We both know that would be fatal."

"And you?" he said, voice tight.

"I've never promised to remain in a monogamous relationship with you, just as I've made no secret of the fact I want to find my soul mate." I held up my hand as his anger surged around me and he opened his mouth to speak. "By the same token, I don't want to fuck every wolf in sight-as you're undoubtedly about to accuse me of."

"I wasn't, actually," he said, more mildly than I'd thought possible.

"Well, it is your usual line of attack," I said, with a slight smile. I leaned forward and caught his hands in mine again. "Look, I love being with you. I love being in your bed. Right now, I don't want anyone else, physically or emotionally. But that's not saying it won't ever happen. As we both keep noting, I am a wolf, and sometimes situations happen."

"And if it does, you don't want me acting like an enraged and jealous husband."

"Well, yes."

He sighed. "I don't know, Riley-"

"You have the reputation of a playboy, so don't tell me finding other women to seduce will be a problem."

His smile sent a warm shiver across my skin. "Oh, that's never been a problem. Well, until I met you."

"What, my wild and wicked ways have turned you off women?"

"Not quite," he said, raising my hand and kissing my fingertips. "Your wild and wicked ways have made me want only you."

"Which is not saying you can't be turned on by other women."

"Indeed."

"Then there's no real problem."

"Not a physical one," he agreed.

He was still kissing my fingers, and it was making my toes curl in delight. "Then you will take other women to your bed when necessary?"

"I don't want to see you dead, Riley, nor do I want to be the possible cause of it. So if you insist on other women and the revolting synth blood-"

"And I do, because it's better for the both of us."

"That is yet to be determined." He gave me a wry sort of smile. "Okay, agreed. But only if you promise not to tell me about your own conquests. It may happen, Riley, but I don't want to know about it."

"I've never gloated about my other partners to you," I said. "And just because our situation forces us to take other partners doesn't mean we can't be the most important person in each other's life."

"Unless you find your soul mate."

I snorted softly. "You and I both know that may never happen. Hell, fate has done a pretty good job of crushing my dreams of a pack of kids. The whole soul mate thing is probably next in line."

"It's still something I worry about. As I said, I don't want to lose you."

"I'm not immortal, Quinn. You're going to lose me sooner or later anyway."

"You, my annoying beautiful redhead, are both werewolf and vampire. The only thing anyone can say with any sort of accuracy about your life span is that it will be longer than a regular werewolf's."

"Oh, God," I said, pretending horror. "Does that mean I have to listen to you nagging about my sex life for half of eternity?"

He smiled, then rose and leaned across the table, kissing me gently. "I'm afraid it does, my girl."

I smiled into his gaze. "Good. Now, I have one other vital question."

"I should have known." He sighed wearily, but the effect was spoiled by the twinkle in his eyes. "Hit me with it, then."

"Have you ever had sex in a flashy red Ferrari?"

His smile dissolved into a look that was all heat, all desire. "No, but I'm willing to give anything a go once."

"That's what I love about you." I kissed him lightly then rose. "Ready to go?"

"With you, dear werewolf, always."

I grinned, caught his hand, and led him outside.

Okay, so sex in a Ferrari wasn't exactly comfortable, but man, uncomfortable could still be so much fun if you were with the right person. I was still grinning in delight as I headed over to the house of the woman who was going to teach me some of the finer techniques of being a club dancer.

Which turned out to be a whole lot of fun, too. The woman Ben had recommended was a towering amazon with honey-colored skin and amazingly large breasts. And she sure could move her booty.

Over the next few hours she taught me that dancing naked well was harder than it seemed, but by the end she'd declared I'd pass general muster and get employed at any of the upmarket clubs.

Meaning, I gather, than the down-market ones employed anyone with breasts.

I thanked her and handed her a hundred for her time, after which she'd declared I was welcome back anytime for lessons.

Once back in the car, I rang Jack. "Hey boss, just had my dancing lesson, so I'm ready to go undercover if you need me to."

"We will need it," he said grimly. "Kade reckons there's something going on behind the scenes at the club. There's several areas that are overly protected by guards, who get rather nasty if the uninvited go near them."

"I gather he tried."

"Yeah. Got thrown out for his trouble. So you'll have to go in."

"There's one problem. If the woman who was chasing Joe either owns or works at this joint, she might well recognize me." I didn't think she'd gotten a good look at my human form-it had been pitch black in that warehouse, after all-but she was a sorcerer and a shapeshifter, and I had no idea how good a crow's sight was at night. We couldn't afford to take the risk.

"Which is why Liander's waiting for you at home. He's going to adjust your look."

I groaned. "Boss, I really do like my 'look' as it is."

"Too bad. After he's finished, get down to the club. As of yesterday, they're two strippers down. They advertised today for workers. You've got a six o'clock appointment."

I glanced at my watch. It was nearing three now, so we were cutting things close. "Isn't it a little odd to be going in for an interview? I thought you just showed up, flaunted your stuff, and you were hired." Or not.

"This place advertises themselves as a 'classy' men's club. They don't just have strippers, although that is their main business. Word is that any woman caught shooting up or prostituting herself on the premises is escorted straight to a police station."

Meaning they couldn't do it while on duty, but could go home with clients? Because it seemed likely that all our vamp victims had met lovers there. "The cops wouldn't charge them, not on secondhand evidence."

"They apparently hand over the security tapes, as well. There's been one incidence there before, and the woman was fined."

"I bet the club had been clean since." Knowing the owners would follow through with the threat of legal action if anyone broke the rules would surely be warning enough to most. "And my profile?"

"Liander has it already. And Riley? Keep the tracker on this time."

"Will do." I hung up and headed home.

Liander was waiting for me, an array of bottles and other goodies laid out over the kitchen table. I'd barely walked in the door when he pointed an imperious finger in the direction of the bathroom. "Shower first."

I frowned and sniffed. "I don't smell that bad."

"You smell of sex, and sweat, which in itself is usually a lovely aroma, but I prefer to work with a clean subject. Besides, you need to erase your base scent, just in case anyone there is a werewolf that recognizes you. I put the soap in the shower holder."

I started stripping as I walked across the room. "Where's Rhoan?"

"Gone back undercover. I don't expect him to surface for a couple of days."

I stopped and looked at him. "So you'll be here alone?"

"I can cope with being alone," he said dryly. "I did it for many, many years before I moved in here."

"But-"

"I'm fine, Riley. Really."

"So no more baby-sitting?"

"No. Although you can still pamper me any old time you please."

"Ha," I said. "If you're better, you become just a regular old member of the family. No pampering, and no one running after you."

"Excellent. Now go shower."

I did, taking longer than I should thanks to the fact that half a mountain of dirt seemed to be lodged under my toenails after last night's run.

"So, what sort of look are we going for this time?" I said when I finally sat down. One of the packets on the table was a voice modulator, and my cheek began to throb in pain at the mere thought of having it inserted.

"Brown with red and gold highlights," he said, lifting my hair and running it through his fingers. Which I knew from experience meant he was going to cut it, too. "So we'll be able to keep some of your natural color-both up top and down below."

Thank goodness for that. I mean, dyeing that hair was above and beyond the call of duty. "And it will wash out, won't it?"

I asked this question every single time he did this, and even though the answer was always the same, I still asked it. I liked my hair color, and I hated risking the dyes. Because one of these days, I just knew fate was going to stick me with something goddamn awful.

Liander gave a much-put-upon sort of sigh. "Of course it will, if only because you would be unbearable if it didn't, and I now have to share an apartment with you."

I grinned. "Too right, makeup man. So, are we staying with gray eyes?"

"Nope. They'll be green. And your voice will be modulated down to raspy."

"Raspy? Why that?"

"Because it sounds sexy in a semidark environment. Which the club is, apparently. Now shut up and let the master work."

I snorted softly, but let him get to it, watching him work through the mirror he'd propped in front of me.

The result was surprisingly sexy. The chocolaty brown played against my own natural color, setting it off rather than clashing, and it contrasted nicely against the warm gold of my skin. The green eyes looked startling, and although I'd feared my hair being cut, all he did was give it some shape.

It was me, and yet not.

"Okay, modulator time," he said, picking up the little plastic bag.

"Damn, I was hoping you'd forgotten about those."

"Jack would have my hide if I did. Open wide, darling."

I did, and winced as he inserted the extremely thin plastic chips in either side of my mouth. The surface of the modulators were supposedly covered with an analgesic that deadened the skin as they went in, but it always felt like he was ripping out teeth rather than shoving in plastic. Although at least once they were positioned inside my cheeks, I couldn't actually feel them. I suppose I should be thankful for small mercies.

"Why do those stupid things always hurt going in?" I asked, only to be a little startled by the sound of my new voice. It was more husky than raspy, and had a deepness that suggested it was coming from the depths of my toes. Calling it sexy was something of an understatement.

"Why do you always complain about the same damn things when you already know the answer?" He handed me a folder, and the twinkle in his silvery eyes grew. "Meet your new identity."

I opened the folder with some trepidation. The Directorate had come up with some pretty stupid cover names in the past. And, as it turned out, this was no different, "CC Buttons?" I looked up at him. "They are kidding, aren't they?"

He smiled. "CC is your stage name. Your actual cover name is Cecily Berg."

"Well, at least that's a little better," I grumbled, scanning my history quickly and memorizing it. Luckily, I had a pretty good recall for this sort of stuff. "These are actual clubs, I gather?"

"Yeah, but all but one have folded. And the owner of Lulu's is a good friend of Jack's, and owes him a favor. She'll rave appropriately about your performances."

"It's a wonder they let me leave," I said, reading through the more personal history. CC was an orphan and former street kid. How surprising. "You know, just once I'd love to have a nice family history for one of these jobs. I mean, it's not like there aren't strippers with happy lives and supporting families behind them."

"Yeah, but it's easier to keep the background contained with an orphan." He slapped my shoulder lightly. "Go get changed. Your interview clothes are on your bed."

I grinned as I dropped the folder onto the table. "Am I going to like them?"

"Oh, I think you're going to love them," he said, looking smug. "So scoot."

I did. My outfit turned out to be a wickedly small black skirt, a hot red singlet top with the words "Werewolf Babe" emblazoned on the front, and matching red stilettos with a heel that reminded me of a glitter ball. There was no bra, but I guess the whole point of the outfit was to let it all hang out.

I dressed and strolled back out to the living room. "So, do you think I'll get the job?"

Liander looked me up and down, then nodded. "I think the word here is 'hot.' And I can safely say that if I were a hetero, I'd certainly want you doing a private dance for me."

"I'm sure you can convince Rhoan to give you one."

"Yeah, but his legs are too hairy to wear that skirt." He glanced at his watch. "You'd better get going. The train leaves in ten minutes."

"What, the Directorate isn't even spotting me a car?"

"Nope." He picked up a large red purse from the table and handed it to me. "I've shoved some costumes, G-strings, and toiletries in there, as you'll probably be asked to try out tonight. Now get."

I got. Catching the train again after having a Directorate car for so long really sucked. Luckily, it wasn't rush hour, but the carriages were far from empty and they reeked of humanity, perfume, and sweat. As ever, it left me wishing my olfactory senses weren't quite as keen.

I got off at the Southern Cross station and caught a tram up to the Lonsdale Street stop, then walked up toward King Street. A surprisingly discreet sign pointed me in the right direction.

The outside of the club was nondescript-just a plain, brown brick building with demure lighting and signage. A red-and-gold-clad doorman was the only indication of the opulence that awaited inside.

The foyer was large and warm, thanks mainly to the richness of the red carpet and the dark gold walls. A redwood paneled counter dominated the far end of the foyer, and the woman standing behind it gave me a warm smile of welcome as I entered. I returned it, but continued to look around as I walked toward her. There were several couches lining the other walls, and a couple of potted plants adding greenery. The biggest indicator of what this club was about were the two nude statues dominating the far corners, and the erotic paintings hanging on the walls.

"Can I help you?" the woman at the counter said. She was tall and auburn haired, and wearing a green dress that made the most of her figure without revealing a whole lot. She also had what looked to be a nanowire around her neck.

Which was interesting. The wires were a nanotechnology development that guarded against psychic intrusion. The only things I knew about them was that they only worked when the two ends were connected, and that it was somehow powered by the heat of the body. They stopped most of the vampire population, but I knew they didn't stop Jack, and they could no longer stop me-although it took me a little more concentration and effort to get past them than it did Jack.

What was interesting about this woman wearing them was the fact that they weren't actually available to the general public yet, although of course-and despite the Directorate's best efforts-they were readily available on the black market. If you had a lot of cash behind you. If all the workers here were wearing them, then someone had a whole lot of money to play with.

"I have an appointment with the manager at six," I said, and glanced at my watch. It was five forty-five. "I'm a few minutes early, though."

Her expression changed from politeness to real warmth. "You here about the dancer job?"

"Yeah. I've been in Melbourne a few weeks, and money is getting short."

She pressed a button, and behind the door to my right, a buzzer sounded. "It's a nice place to work. Money's good, and the clientele are usually well behaved."

"Do you dance much yourself?"

She nodded. "Mainly just on the weekends. The clients tend to be more cashed up."

The door to my right opened before I could say anything. A short, thick-set man in a blue suit gave me a polite nod, then said, "Cecily Berg?" When I nodded, he added. "I'm Matthew. This way, please. First door on the left."

He opened the door wider, and stepped to one side. The hallway beyond was long and narrow, the plain beige carpet matching the walls, and both of them in need of a little loving care.

The first door on the right was a security room, lined with cameras and several burly guards who were keeping an eye on things. The next two doors were closed. The first door on the left led into an office area. As soon as I walked in, I felt the magic. It was only faint, little more than a pinprick of energy that swirled across my skin ever so briefly, but it was there nevertheless. And it felt bad. Just like the stuff in the murdered vampires' homes.

A brown-haired, green-eyed woman looked up as I entered, then gave me a polite smile and rose.

"Cecily Berg? Hanna Mein. I'm the manager here."

And one of the owners. But while the scent of roses and bad magic might cling to her like a barely there cloak, she wasn't the woman who'd been in the warehouse with the hellhounds or who'd sent the zombie after Joe. But her scent was the same as the one in the homes of all our vamp victims.

And like the woman at the front desk and the security guard who'd escorted me here, she was wearing a nanowire.

I took her outstretched hand and shook it politely. Her skin was cool, her grip neither firm nor weak, but somewhere in between. Which-according to the Directorate psycho-babble they occasionally like to lob on us-meant she was a woman confident in herself, and not needing to prove anything. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Please, have a seat." She indicated the comfy-looking chair on the right, then sat down and picked up some papers. "You have excellent references."

"That's because I've worked at some excellent clubs."

"We did check your reference for…" She paused and glanced at the paperwork "… Lulu's. She said you don't do pole work."

I hesitated. "To be honest, I'm just not very good at it."

"The owner did say you were in demand for both lap and private dances."

"I'm a werewolf. It's a rarity in a strip club, and Ms. Vanderberg did play that angle up a little."

Hanna smiled, but her green eyes were neutral. I was getting absolutely nothing from this woman on either a sensory or an emotional level. Nothing except that swirly magic that itched at my skin.

"So tell me, why does a werewolf become an erotic dancer for mainly human clubs?"

I smiled. "Because I'm only half wolf, and because it's a damn good way to make money-as long as you work for the right establishment."

"And you think Meinhardt is one such place?"

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

She nodded again. "We never employ people without a night's trial. Are you willing to work tonight?"

"Sure."

"Excellent. There are no house fees. We simply work on an eighty-twenty split here-in the dancer's favor-which as you'll know is rather generous. Bar receipts are not included in your take, however."

Which is probably why they could afford the generous split. From the little background included in the file Liander had handed me, the bar-or rather, the overpriced booze-was where a lot of money was made.

"We run a main bar, a showgirl's bar, a sports and billiards bar, and the fantasy rooms," she continued, "and our dancers rotate between all of them except the showgirl's room. Only our most experienced dancers entertain there. We expect two on-stage performances if you're in the main room, and lap dances outside those times."

"Do you have privacy booths or rooms?"

"Certainly. We call them the fantasy rooms. Our patrons seem to prefer the various fantasy settings."

"And security?"

"All rooms are monitored. There's a strict no-touching policy in the main room and the show room. Casual contact is allowed in the sports bar, and in the fantasy rooms the option is yours. There is, however, a strict rule about no sex and no drugs of any kind. Participate in either of those activities on these premises, and you will be marched straight down to the local police station and charged."

"Warning heeded." I hesitated. "What about the dress code?"

"Costumes on stage, G-string for room work. In the fantasy rooms, we allow full nudity if the customer is paying for it."

"Sounds good."

She rose and offered her hand. "Good luck tonight, then."

I rose and clasped her hand. The tingly magic I'd been feeling all the way through the interview rose sharply, crawling across my hand and up my arm like a thousand biting insects. As I resisted the temptation to rip my hand away, the wristband Marg had given me suddenly got hot and the biting sensation abruptly fled.

Hanna released my hand quickly, and just for a moment, surprise and curiosity flitted through her green eyes. Whether that was a good thing or bad remained to be seen. "Matthew will give you the tour and show you where to change."

"Thank you."

The blue-suited man appeared in the doorway. "This way, please, Cecily."

"Call me CC. I prefer not to use my real name at work."

He nodded and motioned me into the hallway. I walked out, oddly relieved to be out of that room and away from Hanna Mein. She wasn't a threatening or intimidating person in any realistic way, and yet there was something about her-something other than her magic-that made my skin crawl.

Maybe it was simply that blankness in her eyes.

The rest of the club turned out to be a larger echo of the hallway, at least when it came to color and feel. The main room was dominated by a large stage that reached into the center of the room, lined with several rows of chairs. Tables and chairs were scattered around the rest of the room, and a large redwood bar dominated the far end. There were a few customers scattered about, some being tended to by dancers, some watching the blonde on the stage, and others standing at the bar getting drinks or talking to the waitstaff. The sports bar had billiards tables and a huge TV that dominated one wall. There were G-string-clad ladies here, some playing pool with the customers, others simply sitting down and chatting. There was no stage here, and no lap dancing happening. Some of the women were even wearing sporting-type tops-although they were skintight, and barely covered their breasts.

The show room was smaller than the main room, and it had no tables. Just a large stage surrounded by seats, all of which were empty.

"Shows don't start until ten," Matthew said, obviously noting my surprise. "We don't start getting the main crowd in here until at least nine, so it's not worth the expense of opening this room until then."

"Do the dancers here make much money?" I didn't really care, but it seemed the sort of question someone like CC would ask.

"Plenty. A lot of men prefer the titillation factor of flesh glimpsed under clothing over full-view flesh, and they are prepared to pay big to get it."

He led me into another hallway, this one larger than the one off the foyer. Half a dozen doors led off it and each one was labeled-schoolroom, Arabian nights, boardroom, and so on.

"The fantasy rooms, obviously," Matthew said. "These are all prebooked, so if a customer wants a private dance, he has to go up to the bookings office to get the room and dancer of his choice."

"Are matching costumes expected?"

"Yeah, but you can buy them in-house if you haven't got anything appropriate with you. It's only a basic materials charge."

"Then I'll be expected to get them for tonight?"

"If you dance as well as your resume boasts, then there's going to be a demand, so yes." He opened a door marked Staff Only, ushered me through, then began pointing to the various doors leading off the small foyer area. "Back here you have a staff lounge, locker room, and bathroom. The door to your left goes through to another office area and the costumes department. Perhaps you'd better go see them first. When you're ready, walk up to the main room and ask for Candy. She'll run through the rest of the rules for you."

"Thanks for tour," I said.

He nodded, but before he could turn and leave, someone behind us said, "Matthew, why has the schoolroom been cleared of any bookings for tonight and tomorrow night? Is there a problem with it?"

The woman's voice was sharp, almost angry, and for a moment I froze. Not because I feared the sudden rise of tension in the room, but because the voice was all too familiar. This was the woman who'd spoken at the warehouse-the crow who controlled both the zombies and the hellhounds.

Matthew turned around and I followed suit, knowing I had little other choice. If I walked away, it might look odd. But her seeing through the disguise and recognizing me was a distinct danger. She'd have seen me in the old factory when her creature was chasing Joe, and even if crows had bad eyesight at night, Liander hadn't changed my looks that much.

Still, I'd trusted his work in the past and it had never led me astray, so I carefully set my features into a look of cool curiosity.

The woman who'd appeared was small, almost fragile looking, with a shock of black hair and yellow eyes that looked oddly inhuman. Her cheeks were sharp, her nose long and angular, and her mouth thin. Not a woman who smiled much, I thought.

And she was in a wheelchair. Just like the woman who'd confronted Mike.

We had yet another connection.

"There's no problem, Ms. Hardt," Matthew answered. "Hanna told me not to book the room at all. Apparently a special has been requested, but she's not entirely sure what night."

Jessica Hardt-the other owner of Meinhardt's-grunted softly, and something flashed through her eyes. Something that resembled frustration and anger combined. "She didn't mention it to me." Her gaze slipped to me, and she frowned suddenly. "Who are you?"

"CC Buttons, ma'am," I said, suddenly glad I had the modulators. She'd heard my voice in the factory and would have recognized the sound of it.

"She's on trial for tonight," Matthew explained. "Amber's called in sick, and Freddie's been given a week off work, at least."

Jessica continued to frown, her sharp gaze racking the length of me. Her fingers tapped against the arm of he chair, the movements as brusque as her voice. "Do we know each other? Because you look familiar."

"I've only just arrived down in Melbourne, but I have worked other clubs interstate. Perhaps you've seen me onstage sometime?"

"I doubt it." Her gaze went back to Matthew. "Open the schoolroom up for bookings. I'll go talk to Hanna."

And with that, she rolled away. I let go of the breath I'd been holding, and glanced at Matthew. "What's a special?"

Matthew grimaced. "Usually some dirty old vampire who likes to get his rocks off by watching younger girls simulate sex. They pay big money for the privilege, so Hanna tends to allow it. Jessica doesn't like it, though."

Which made me wonder what else Jessica didn't like. Because there was a tightness about her that suggested a woman very unhappy with something. "How young we talking about?"

"Eighteen. We can't legally allow anyone younger than that, but the girls who do the specials are usually our less experienced dancers."

And I was betting they weren't dancers at all, let alone eighteen. Martin Shore's girlfriend had said he'd met his last lovers here, and that one of them was no where near legal age.

I nodded, then asked, "While I think of it, do you have a stripper named Vicki Keely working here?"

He frowned. "I don't think so. Why?"

I shrugged. "My old boss asked me to say hi if I ever ran into her, that's all."

"Sorry, I don't think she's ever been here. Not that I can remember, anyway."

I reached out mentally, pushing past the nanowire to scan his thoughts. I could see no lie. Which didn't mean Vicki hadn't been here, just that he didn't know about it.

He walked away. I stood there for a moment, drawing in the air, sorting through the various scents for any hint of the magic that had been in the warehouse or the homes of the murdered vampires. Perfume rode the air, almost masking the heavier scent of humans. Someone was having a shower in the bathroom, and in the lounge people talked softly, though it might have been the TV given it was two male voices I could hear.

There was no familiar scent and nothing seemed out of the ordinary or suspicious. Not to my novice-stripper eyes, anyway.

I glanced around the room again, and saw the discreetly placed cameras in the corners. I was being watched, which meant standing here doing nothing wasn't such a good idea. I turned and headed for the costume department. Time to get down to work.

Dancing might have seemed like fun when I was practicing the art with Ben's Amazonian friend, but after eight long hours of dancing in heels and smiling so hard it felt like my face would crack, I was bone tired and ready for sleep.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed for the back exit. The bouncer stationed there gave me a cheery smile as he opened the door. "Will you be all right out there at this hour? Or would you like someone to walk you to your car?"

"I'll be fine, thanks."

He nodded and stepped aside as I walked through. "Be careful, then."

I smiled and walked into the night. Naturally enough, it was raining and I didn't have a coat. I did have a woolly hat, and I shoved that on, tucking my hair underneath it and pulling it down over my ears. I did likewise to the sleeves of my baggy sweatshirt, although the material was pretty flimsy with age, and not exactly warm. Shivering, I crossed my arms and headed toward King street in the hope of finding a taxi near one of the nightclubs. If not, I could always head back down to Spenser Street and catch a bus, because the trains didn't actually run at this hour.

When I was out of earshot of the club, I pressed the button in my ear and said, "What a fucking miserable way to end a shift. Tell Jack thanks for not giving me a car on this one."

"Your character is not the type to own a car, Riley, and the Directorate cannot control the weather," Jack said dryly. "How'd things go in there?"

"Tryout went well, I earned lots of money, and they've asked me back on a permanent basis."

"Excellent. Did you learn anything?"

"We've hit the jackpot. One of the owners is the crow who's controlling the zombies, and the other smells the same as the magic I've sensed in our victims' houses."

"So we have a tag team of killers?"

"Most likely. I also found out that one of the owners runs 'specials' for certain vampire customers." I explained what apparently happened, then added, "I linked with most of the women working here tonight, and none of them have ever worked a special. To me it suggests that Hanna Mein is bringing in inexperienced teenagers to work the specials and somehow hook up with the vamps. Shore's girlfriend said he liked them young."

"Armel didn't mind it, either," Jack murmured. "Although I can't understand why they'd be killing the girls afterward. With the sort of money they apparently earned, they're not likely to say anything to anyone."

"But a dead seducer definitely tells no tales." And if Hanna and Jessica were behind the vamp murders, then they certainly couldn't risk even the slightest whisper getting out. It'd definitely kill the stripper business, not to mention them. The Directorate wouldn't be the only ones hunting these killers. Kye certainly was.

Jack grunted. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Most of the managerial staff is wearing nanowires, and there's psychic deadeners in every room."

"The deadeners are probably used to stop vamp customers 'leaning' on dancers or staff to get that little bit extra," Jack said, a trace of amusement in his voice. Which suggested to me he'd done more than his fair share of "leaning" over his lifetime. "The fact they've got so many wires in one place is interesting, though. We've been making sure they're in short supply on the market at the moment, and the price is sky high."

"Which only means these women are in the position to spend big."

"And yet their financial records suggest that should not be possible."

"Unless they're getting their cash flow through other means. Like raiding the safes of their victims." I rubbed my wet arms and tried to ignore the water dripping off my nose. Neither was working.

"It would explain the robberies, but not the violence. Did you get close to any of those guarded doors Kade mentioned?"

"Had no legitimate reason to, and I didn't want to do anything that would raise suspicions on my first night."

Ahead of me, a door slammed and the sharp tattoo of heels echoed across the rainswept night. I stopped in the shadows, watching as a blond-haired women stepped out of the shadows and turned onto King Street. I didn't immediately recognize her, but her scent told me who it was soon enough.

Hanna Mein herself.

"Gotta go, Jack," I said softly. "I've just spotted one of our targets."

"Report back as soon as you're able."

"Will do." I clicked off the sound, then slipped off my stilettos, shoving them into my bag and padding barefoot through the cold, wet night. The woman ahead was moving quickly, her blonde hair barely visible in the thick furry collar of the coat she was wearing. The click of her heels rode across the silence-a sound that was punctuated by the occasional car roaring past on the empty street.

She turned left and marched toward Bourke Street. I dashed across the street, and followed on the opposite sidewalk. I couldn't wrap the shadows around me full time, thanks to the streetlights and the occasional car sweeping by, so there was less likelihood of her realizing she was being followed if I wasn't right behind her. Not that she was bothering to look around her anyway. She seemed more intent on simply getting to wherever she was going as quickly as possible. Not that I could blame her.

I swiped at the drips running down my cheeks and chin, but my sleeve was as wet as my face and really did little to remove the rain. My top was soaked and it clung to my skin like… well, a second skin. It was providing so little cover that I might as well have been naked-only that might have drawn too much attention from the cops who were always cruising King Street at this hour. With all the nightclubs in this area, there was always some kind of trouble for the police to hose down.

So was that where Hanna was heading? She was certainly moving in the right direction for the clubs, but the rail and bus station wasn't far away-though she didn't exactly look the type to take public transport. Certainly an expensive fur coat, whether it was faux or not, wasn't what any sane person would wear if trying to avoid either trouble or getting wet. Although if she was the one hacking away at the vampires, maybe saneness wasn't in her vocabulary.

We crossed Little Bourke Street and hurried on toward Bourke. The quick-click of the blonde's heels were now mingling with the base-heavy thump of music from the clubs farther down the road. She still hadn't looked around, which was odd if she was up to no good. You'd think she'd show a little more awareness of her surroundings…

The thought faded as awareness suddenly prickled across my skin. The woman wasn't the only one being followed.

I resisted the urge to look around and flared my nostrils, drawing in the scents of the wet night and rifling through them quickly. And there it was in the undernotes-a scent I recognized. A wolf who obviously wanted to be found, because he knew better than to be caught upwind of another hunter.

"I know you're there, Kye," I said softly. He wasn't close, but I'd knew he'd hear me anyway.

There was no response, no sound of quickened footsteps, but that wash of awareness grew stronger until he fell into step beside me.

It took you long enough to realize it. His mind voice might be cooler than the night itself, but his presence was so, so hot.

It felt like I was walking beside a furnace, and a whole lot of me wanted to snuggle right up to it. And not just because I was cold.

That's because you've only just moved in direct line of scent. Which was a guess on my part. I'd like to think I'd been in this job long enough now to instinctively "feel" when I was being followed.

Which might not be the case, but hey, a girl has to dream a little.

You might never have realized I was there, otherwise. This time his mental tones were laced with amusement that sent a delicious tingle all the way down my spine.

God, what was it with this wolf? I couldn't exactly blame the moon heat anymore, because the full moon was over for the next month. So why did Kye-someone I didn't want to like-have my hormones dashing around so excitedly?

Maybe Liander was right. Maybe my wolf soul had had enough, and was putting her foot down to demand equal loving rights.

Maybe I was just hoping that like all bad smells, you'd eventually go away.

I don't smell bad, and you know it.

He was right, he didn't, but there was no way on this green Earth I was going to admit it.

What are you doing here, Kye?

Same thing as you. Following a target.

The woman up ahead isn't the woman who was in the warehouse with the zombie and the hellhounds, so I repeat the question-why are you here?

He glanced at me then, his amber eyes cool and judging, weighing his options, sizing up the opposition. The tension that rolled through me was part fear, part a readiness to attack.

Probably for the same reason you are. I suspect she's involved with what is going on, but have no proof.

And if he got proof, he'd kill her. I resisted the urge to rub the chill from my arms, although I was no longer sure if the cause was the cold or the man. This wolf might have me in a spin, but he repelled my saner half.

Because in him I saw a reflection of myself-a reflection of the killer Jack wanted me to be.

He was everything I was trying not to become.

And for that reason alone, I'd fight this damn attraction as hard as I could. I didn't need a constant reminder of the future that might be mine.

If you kill her, I replied, wondering how much he actually knew-and whether I should risk doing a full read of his thoughts. We may never get that proof.

Which is the reason, he said softly, that I merely follow.

So no killing tonight?

He met my gaze again, and a slight smile teased one corner of his mouth. It didn't reach his eyes. Didn't warm the cold depths. No killing tonight.

Good. I paused. Does this mean you're going home?

I said it in a hopeful kind of way, and his smile widened. Despite the continuing chill in his gaze, the night suddenly didn't seem as cold anymore.

My wolf soul, it seemed, wasn't going to give up this attraction very easily.

No, Kye said, it means you're stuck with me until we discover just what this woman is up to.

Darn.

Its so nice to feel wanted.

Oh, he was wanted all right. It was just lucky the moon heat was over and I had some measure of control over myself. Not that control did much good given he could probably smell my interest. It was hard for a wolf to hide that sort of thing.

Though he seemed to be doing a damned good job of it.

I should be arresting your ass, I muttered. You've been warned off this case several times already.

You could try if you want to, but it'll cause a bit of a ruckus, and our target just might realize she's being followed.

Which is why I'm not arresting your ass. That and the fact I was just too bone tired to muster the strength I'd probably need to haul his cute rear end into the Directorate.

He smiled again and didn't say anything. We walked another block and crossed over Bourke Street. Laughter and voices joined the bass-heavy beat, and the scent of alcohol and humanity rode the wet night air.

"I liked your performance in the club tonight," he said after a while. I guess he figured us actually having some conversation did look a little better than utter silence should our target happen to look over her shoulder. "Even for a werewolf, you moved extraordinarily well."

I raised an eyebrow. "You were there?"

I was.

"Disguised, obviously."

"Obviously. You didn't spot me."

"Hard to spot someone if they've erased their scent and donned a completely different look."

"True." He glanced at me. "It took me a moment to recognize you. Your look and smell was different enough that I glanced past you several times before I realized who you were. I like your regular look better, by the way."

"Then I'd better keep this one," I said dryly. "You planning to be there tomorrow night?"

"Of course." Telepathically, he added, Now that I know she has an accomplice, it is my duty to track her down and hill them both.

And if he did, I would arrest him. No matter how horrified my crazy hormones might be. "If I spot you tomorrow night, I'll treat you a lap dance."

"I wouldn't."

I raised an eyebrow again. "Why not? We both know you'd enjoy it."

"That is the problem." I am not here to enjoy myself.

Of course he wasn't. He was here to track down and kill. Just like me. A shiver rolled across my skin and I rubbed my arms. If he noted the movement, he didn't do the gentlemanly thing, like offer me his coat. Quinn would have.

As we neared Flinders Lane, Hanna suddenly swung in our direction, looking left and right before running across. She didn't even look our way as she ran past us, moving up the street with a quick glance at her watch.

"Must have an appointment," Kye murmured, his arms brushing mine as the pavement suddenly narrowed.

Up ahead, a figure waited. A slender woman who was all of sixteen or seventeen.

Fuck.

I stopped, and just as I did, Hanna looked around. Kye reacted before I could, his speed almost that of a vampire as he crushed me against the wall and began kissing me.

And oh, what a kiss.

It was urgent and hungry and filled with everything he hadn't been showing, and I reacted as fiercely as I would have had the full moon been nearing completion.

For several seconds, there was nothing else in my world but this kiss and the fierce heat of his body against mine. Then sanity returned, and along with it sound, and I became aware of voices talking.

I broke away, then said, Listen.

I am. He kissed my neck, my ear, then wrapped his arms around my waist and drew me into a hug that was as close as two people could get without being naked.

"But what does the job entail?" the younger woman asked.

"Nothing more than sleeping with a vampire for one night." Hanna's voice sounded a lot tinnier than it had before. Maybe she was wearing some sort of cheap modulator.

I shifted my head slightly on Kye's shoulder so I could get a better look at Hanna's target. Like the other women who'd been found dead, this one was slender in build. Unlike the others, she had large breasts and a wine-colored birthmark covering part of her cheek and running down her neck.

The younger woman raised an eyebrow. "Ten grand for sleeping with one bloodsucker for one night? That seems like an awfully good deal. What's the fucking catch?"

"The catch is you have to come to Meinhardt's to meet him."

"Isn't that a strip joint?"

"A men's club is the term we prefer," Hanna said, voice holding an edge, "and you won't be expected to strip for anyone except my client. He has a fetish for unusual body markings and I think you would be to his tastes."

"So I have to do him there?"

"No. You accept an invitation to go home with him."

"And then what?" There was still doubt evident in her tones, but even I could see the glint of anticipation in her eyes. Though not, I suspected, for the sex, but rather for the cash. "I just leave in the morning?"

"With ten grand in your hand, yes. And that's more than enough money to take that course you were talking to the employment office about."

I had no idea what course Hanna might have been talking about, but I knew for sure the young woman would never live to do it.

The slender woman made a clicking sound with her tongue, then said, "Make it twelve, and I'm yours."

"Twelve it is then." Even from where we stood, Hanna's satisfaction was evident. "Here's my business card in case you need to contact me. Be in the lane behind Meinhardt's at seven, and we'll hustle you into the club."

The woman took the card and shoved it in her pocket, then turned and walked back up Flinders Lane. Hanna watched her for a little while, then spun around and headed back in our direction.

Kye kissed me again.

It was even more electrifying than before, and it took me several seconds to register the fact that Hanna had walked past us.

"Looks like we have a tough decision," he said, his breath fast and heated on my lips. "Follow the witch, or follow her target?"

"She's a sorcerer," I corrected, and ducked under his arms, forcing some air and distance between us. "And you know as well as I do that my next quarry is her target."

He reached out and touched a finger lightly to my cheek. "I enjoyed our little encounter tonight, but it's going to make the lap dance tomorrow night all that much harder to ignore."

He wouldn't be ignoring anything on my shift. Which was not entirely a sane thought given my resolve to have as little as possible to do with this man. But then, maybe I wasn't entirely sane. After all, I was a guardian. "Don't kill the blonde."

"I gave you my word not to kill her tonight, Riley. I am a man of my word, if nothing else."

"Good. See you tomorrow night."

"If you can find me," he said, a trace of amusement in his voice again.

It was a challenge, and we both knew it. I didn't answer, simply turned and ran after the young woman before she disappeared.