Violet continued. “And who cares what happened to Johnny, anyway? I wonder what the woman’s really after. Insurance? An inheritance? She seemed way too pleased to assume he was dead. In that respect, she has all my sympathy. Do you suppose Constantine really killed him?”

  Ophelia pulled herself together and retrieved the remote. “Why would Constantine kill some dancer he hardly knew?”

  Violet shrugged, picking at a nonexistent blemish. “I have to run to the club. Donnie Donaldson’s coming by, and I promised I’d be there. He wants to tell me about his construction business. How boring is that? Maybe I’ll distract him with a kiss or two. Or maybe not.” She turned from the mirror as her daughter came down the stairs. “Zelda, make Ophelia some tea. Something to improve brain function.” She regarded her sister with a pained expression. “Angel, you’re behaving irrationally. Someone’s got it in for you. Dead bodies in your truck are no joke. Here’s this gorgeous cop lusting after you, and you’re spurning him. So what if he ends up a love slave? Better to have him protecting you because you’re a vamp than not protecting you at all.”

  “That sounds awfully sordid to me,” Zelda offered.

  “Thank you.” Ophelia slouched into the sofa again.

  “It is sordid, darling,” Violet said. “But it’s the way of life, so make the best of it.” She planted her butt on the arm of the couch and spread her hand. “See what Art did for me this afternoon?” Shocking pink spiders on black fingernails.

  “Lovely,” Ophelia said.

  Violet stretched out a shapely foot. “Tomorrow, my toes. Art told me all about her ghastly ex and his puritanical notions. I think Darby will do nicely for her. There’s nothing the least bit stodgy about him. It’s so sweet of Constantine to help her out.”

  Again, Ophelia wondered what Constantine was up to. He wouldn’t hurt Art, but he might frighten her badly. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much Ophelia could do about that.

  “Actually, I doubt if Gideon’s the submissive type,” Vi said.

  “He’s not. I want to throttle him. He pushes me around, he insists on his own way, he turns things to his advantage…” Ophelia arched herself against the cushions and groaned. “He’s so hot, and I want him so much it’s killing me.”

  “You sound like a sex-crazed sixteen-year-old.”

  “Hey! Don’t malign the younger generation!” Zelda showed Ophelia her nails: rust-colored cockroaches on a green background. “My new method of creeping out the guys.”

  “Something happening?” Violet’s mouth quirked up.

  “Mo-om!” Zelda headed toward the kitchen. “Every time a guy says hello, I don’t wonder if I’m a vamp.”

  Ophelia and Violet’s eyes met.

  “Even normal women have to fight them off at times.” Zelda’s voice, high and clear and a little unsure, carried from the next room.

  “Well,” said Violet.

  “We don’t know for certain,” Ophelia said, but her eyes betrayed her. “Okay, okay, you may be right about Zelda, but not about me. I’m not sex crazed. I know I can get a love slave just by crooking my little finger. I don’t want that. I don’t want it to be just about the sex.” She fought for words. “He has to really like me.”

  “Oh. My. Lord.” Violet gaped at her sister. “I do believe you’re falling in love!”

  Gideon’s cell phone rang as he drove back toward Bayou Gavotte. After dealing with the crime-scene people in a haze, he had taken the slow country roads to New Orleans, along the bayou and through the swamps. Once there, he’d spent an hour prowling the Quarter, thinking until his mind was ready to implode. At least he had control of his temper now.

  He read the display. DARBY SIMS.

  “Gideon? You’ve got to do something about Artemisia. She’s out clubbing with Dufray.”

  Christ. “So?”

  “I don’t like the way he looks at her,” Darby said.

  A shrill voice in the background was surely Marissa. “What about me? Are you talking to that jerk of a cop?” An echo told Gideon the phone was now on speaker. “Constantine looked like he wanted to kill me! What are you going to do about it, Vibrator Man?”

  “You’re imagining things, Marissa,” Darby said. “Dufray hardly spared a glance for you. He was all over Artemisia.”

  “He’s the creepiest person I’ve ever seen! He makes me think of axes and thumbscrews!”

  “You saw axes and thumbscrews—in the decor there.” Ah. The Oubliette. “Gideon, Dufray looked like he wanted to devour Artemisia.”

  “Maybe she’d like that,” Gideon said callously. He had enough worries of his own. At least Dufray wasn’t a vampire. He hoped.

  Darby groaned. “He’s all wrong for Artemisia. She’s just been through a lousy marriage.”

  “What about me?” Marissa snapped. “I had a lousy marriage, too!”

  “Sounds like you’ve got enough on your hands, Dar,” Gideon said. “Art’s a grown woman. She’s not answerable to either of us.”

  “Get off the phone with that useless cop and go look for Johnny!” Marissa’s bitching was followed by grunts and muffled curses.

  “I thought better of you, Gideon,” Dar panted. “I guess I’ll have to—”

  Marissa hollered, “Oh, no, you don’t! I’m not going back in there because of some stupid girl who deserves whatever happens to her.”

  Gideon hung up. When he reached Bayou Gavotte, he went straight to the Impractical Cat and stalked into Leopard’s office.

  “She’s a goddamned vampire! Why didn’t you tell me?” Gideon made himself close the door without slamming it. A couple of hours earlier, he’d been so pissed off at Lep he might well have shot the door off its hinges. This was calm. This was controlled.

  “It’s just not done,” Constantine said. He didn’t look up from the riff he was working on. “Generally, it’s up to a vamp to tell or not. Their secret, their risk. Bad things tend to happen to people who betray a vamp’s confidence.”

  Gideon rolled his eyes as an alternative to breaking Constantine’s guitar over his head.

  “Nothing ‘goddamned’ about her,” Leopard said. “Not undead, not evil, not allergic to crosses and garlic, nothing like that. Think of her as a hot chick with fangs.”

  “You know I didn’t mean it that way,” Gideon growled. He leaned against the door and glared at the one-way glass showing the back hall. The day after poetry night, even the usual bustle seemed slow. To the left of the glass, a video screen had been bolted to the wall, and shots of stalls and restroom walls flicked by. He doubted if watching other men take a dump was Leopard’s idea of entertainment. Served him right. “Tony didn’t leave it up to Ophelia. He slashed my thumb right in front of her.”

  “Tony’s an older guy,” Leopard said. “He takes liberties. Of course, he’s a vamp, too.”

  Not done, huh? Gideon barely prevented himself from snarling. “I wondered, after Ophelia overreacted and bit his girlfriend, and they exchanged opinions on how she tasted.” He pushed away from the door and wished he didn’t sound so bitter.

  “That explains it,” Leopard said, kicking back in his recliner. “He figured Ophelia was too close to the edge, so he forced the issue.”

  “You ‘wondered’?” Constantine mocked. “I thought you didn’t believe in vamps.” His fingers traveled, hesitated, traveled again on the strings of his guitar.

  Gideon retreated to the couch, giving up on maintaining a front. With these people, it took too much work. “You know how it is. All the rumors, the stories…You think you don’t believe in something, but you sort of wish you could.” He choked on a laugh. “Jesus. The damn fangs glow in the dark!”

  “You’re okay with it?” Constantine’s pick poised in the air.

  “Of course I am!” Then, guessing: “How could she imagine I wouldn’t be?” No way would he tell them about the hours of turmoil leading up to this visit. There had never been a doubt about the outcome. He found himself staring at his wholly healed thumb for perhaps the thousandth time. “Jesus. Are there a lot of vamps around?”

  “Compared to so-called normal people, no,” Lep said. “It’s a rare gene. On the other hand, there seem to be more vamps now than there were in the past. It’s getting harder to keep them secret, that’s for damn sure. There are even online vampire help groups nowadays, although most people think it’s just a game.” He gave Gideon a hard, meaningful look.

  Gideon tamped down his annoyance. “Don’t threaten me. You know I won’t tell anyone.”

  Constantine played the same riff he had been messing with ever since Gideon had shown up. Again. And again. Louder.

  Leopard narrowed his eyes. “If you’re not okay with the fangs, you need to back off right now. You gotta like ’em or you gotta leave. If there’s one thing that’ll mess with a vamp’s head, it’s when the asshole she just laid throws up because he can’t handle the fangs. That happened to Ophelia at least once. It better not happen again.”

  “I’m fine with the fangs.” Gideon pressed his thumbs against the bridge of his nose. “Lep, I almost hauled her in to the station. If she hadn’t agreed to go to Tony’s instead…What if she’d ended up in jail with a horny guard in charge? Too many guys have no control when she’s around.”

  Leopard spread his hands. “She’s not stupid. She knew what would happen if she went to jail. Between giving in to you and ripping some guard to bits, what choice did she have?”

  “If she’d just told me—” Constantine’s goddamned riff came again and almost split Gideon’s skull. “For fuck’s sake,” he shouted. “Do you have to play it over and over?”

  The rocker’s fingers stilled. “You were the one who busted in here while we were writing a song.”

  “Busting in is what I would have done a couple of hours ago when I was really pissed off,” Gideon said more evenly. “I came to see Lep. You were supposed to be painting the town with my little sister.”

  “Artemisia has work in the morning.” Constantine’s fingers caressed the strings. “She’s a ripe little cutie. Wants to shed all her inhibitions at once.”

  “I don’t see how you could be any worse for her than her ex,” Gideon said irritably, mentally congratulating himself for not shooting the bastard then and there. Because he wasn’t really a bastard.

  “I’ve already been considerably better for her,” the rocker announced with an obnoxious grin.

  Definitely a jackass, though.

  “Don’t be a jackass, Constantine,” Leopard said. He cocked his head at Gideon. “If you’re here for advice, I can’t help you. My mom’s a vampire and I love her to death, but I know better than to get involved with a vamp myself. Not fucking worth it.”

  Constantine snorted. “Much as I love our Ophelia…” His fingers wandered lazily across the guitar strings. “I was only sixteen when I slept with a vamp. Way too young for common sense or self-control or any idea of consequences. Lep warned me, but it turned out the opposite of what everyone predicted. Instead of me getting obsessed with her, she got obsessed with me.”

  Gideon stopped himself just in time from asking what had happened. Instead, he watched a busboy with a pile of dirty plates dodging Burton Tate at the entrance to the restroom hall.

  Abruptly, Constantine stilled the guitar strings. “What next, sport?”

  “Next I get back to work. I find out who killed that dude. I find out who has it in for Ophelia and why. I figure out how to keep her safe. Either of you know where Plato works?”

  “Ophelia won’t thank you for harassing Plato,” Leopard said.

  Constantine chimed in. “Told you so.”

  “What Ophelia wants is irrelevant right now. He may have seen something. He may still see something.” Gideon cut his eyes to the video screen. Burton Tate banged into the restroom, glanced around, and immediately banged out again.

  “Plato’s a pharmacist,” Leopard said. “He could lose his job if they find out he’s bent.”

  “They won’t find out because of me.”

  “You’re treading on thin ice,” Constantine said. “What Ophelia wants is critical to your chances with her.”

  “Whether Ophelia lives is even more critical,” Gideon retorted.

  “You’re a man of remarkable restraint, sport. You’re holding off on Ophelia, and you haven’t tried to deck me. Not that you’d succeed, but any red-blooded American boy would at least try. Or are you saving your blood for Ophelia? Don’t worry, she won’t drain you. Just a taste should satisfy her—as long as she gets laid.”

  “She’s hardly talking to me,” Gideon said. “She sealed this goddamn cut because she had no choice.” Burton Tate passed the one-way glass in the direction of the patio. What was that in his shirt pocket?

  “That’s one way of putting it,” Leopard snickered. He put his hands behind his head and leaned way back, grinning up at the ceiling.

  Constantine said, “You’ve got a lot to learn, sport. You had her right where you wanted her and let her go.”

  “The patio at Tony’s is not where I want her,” Gideon said. “She ordered me to stay off her property. I have no alternative for the moment but to show restraint.” He stood up. Burton Tate’s arm, with its familiar dagger tattoo, hovered at the edge of the one-way glass. A hand reached out to pinch a waitress, and he came into the picture again. “It is a permanent marker,” Gideon said.

  “Burton Tate,” Constantine said, and Leopard leaped out of the recliner. Burton headed back toward the restroom.

  “That weasel.” Leopard pushed the intercom button, but Constantine reached over and punched it off again.

  “I’ll take this one,” Constantine said. “Unless…” He motioned to Gideon. “She’s your woman, after all.”

  “Tempting,” Gideon said smoothly, feeling no compunction to save Burton from Constantine’s revenge. “But I got to rough up Willy Wyler yesterday. I’d better get on with the murder investigation.”

  “Plato works at the All-Nite,” Leopard said.

  Ten minutes later Gideon parked at the drugstore in the outparcel next to Albertsons supermarket. Five minutes after that he had an appointment with Plato Lavoie for half past midnight. Another two minutes, and he found the officer doing surveillance across from the photo shop slumped in his car, fast asleep.

  Ophelia dragged herself out to Constantine’s truck, intending a quick trip to the supermarket on the way home. No amount of talk or endlessly circling thoughts made any difference. It wasn’t necessarily love—or so she’d attempted to convince Violet earlier. Haltingly, she’d tried to explain her feelings. “He’s up front about what he wants. He doesn’t take no for an answer.” Which made absolutely no sense, considering that drove her crazy in any other guy.

  Violet smirked. “I told you it was love.”

  “And he has a sense of humor, and he doesn’t let me bullshit him, and—and I just like him a lot.” An awful lot. “I want him to feel the same way.”

  “Love,” Violet insisted. “You lucky girl.”

  Right. Love, liking—whatever it was, she couldn’t explain to Vi why it would never work, so she drove morosely through town in the macho truck high up on its oversized wheels and wished, not for the first time, that she could have fallen in love with Constantine and gotten it over with. If anyone understood her predicament, Constantine did, but his methods were as unacceptable to her as Violet’s take on sex.

  Ophelia turned the truck into the strip mall that included Albertsons, grateful for the normality of shopping for food. Her eyes traveled automatically toward the print and photo shop, which would have closed hours ago. Crap. Artemisia hovered in front of the shop, surreptitiously trying the door. Dumb, because obviously the place was closed, and even dumber for other reasons. Gideon’s sister shifted indecisively on the sidewalk, the breeze ruffling dark hair into her face. Then she scurried to the end of the strip and turned the corner toward the rear.

  Damn. Ophelia wrenched the truck around, cut a wide swath past the cluster of cars next to the buildings and slipped between the far end of Albertsons and the bank next to it. She turned left behind the strip mall, careening by Dumpsters, vehicles, and debris. At the final turn at the end of the mall, she shut off her lights and inched forward, glad of the excellent night vision that formed part of her genetic heritage. Not that she needed it, for a wavering flashlight beam marked Art’s progress up the metal staircase that led to the apartment above the shop.

  Ophelia cut the motor, leaving the window open a few inches. “I won’t be long,” she told Gretchen. She climbed down from the cab and softly shut the door.

  “Art!” she hissed. Gideon’s sister sobbed, and the flashlight beam flew erratically across the dirty pavement. “It’s me, Ophelia. Put that light out!”

  Art ignored the command or maybe didn’t hear it, and the flashlight beam swept back and forth like a goddamn beacon until Ophelia, leaping up the stairs in a fury, grabbed it and switched it off.

  “Are you insane? What if the murderer comes back to ransack the store? Not only that, I’ll bet a hundred to one Gideon has the shop under surveillance. Do you want to get arrested? Let’s go!”

  “I have to get inside,” Art squeaked. “I know there’s a way from the apartment. I’ve seen the stairs in the shop. I’m wearing latex gloves so I won’t leave prints.” She picked her way obstinately upward in the dark.

  “Why do you have to get in there?” Ophelia scowled at her friend’s back and followed. “Don’t tell me. It’s not just nude art poses. What is it, porn?”

  “Of course not! I would never, ever…” Her voice quavered and sank.

  They reached the platform outside the apartment and Ophelia shoved herself ruthlessly between Art and the door. “Tell me the truth.”

  “It’s not intentionally porn!” protested Art. “I didn’t know my picture was being taken!”

  “Spit it out, Art.”

  “It was in the women’s locker room at the art school. There must have been a camera in one of the cubes, and oh God, this is so embarrassing, but I took my clothes off and I was looking at myself in the mirror, posing, trying it on, getting my nerve up, which was dumb, since I knew from friends in art school how boring posing nude really is. But anyway, he sent me one of the pics, and I’m bending over, totally exposed, with this sassy expression on my face. Nobody will believe I didn’t do it on purpose, and the other pictures may be worse! I went out with Constantine tonight to make Dar jealous, and I could tell Dar was totally shocked, and I just know he’ll never want me if he finds out about the pics!”