Under other circumstances, Ante would have been amused. But not today. Here he was, planning to relax with a movie and beat off to memories of Peter, while Peter himself was in mortal danger. What kind of monster was he? A cowardly one?

  “You have to at least try,” he said out loud. He repeated it in Croatian. And then he headed toward the door.

  IT was odd. Even after residing in Vegas for so long, Ante was still fooled by the scale of the place. Destinations that seemed close, perhaps only a few casinos away, took forever to reach. It was as if the entire city were one long nightmare. Tonight he tried to hurry to Zortea, but people crowded the sidewalks and got in his way. They weren’t in a rush—they had drinks in their hands and money in their pockets, and dreams of wealth danced and kicked in their heads like sexy showgirls.

  Ante had to resist the urge to push them all out of his way.

  When he finally reached his destination, he ignored the perky, attractive people behind the reception desk and instead confronted a man skulking near the escalators. He was a vampire, although Ante couldn’t remember his name and didn’t care.

  “I need to talk to Eadburg,” Ante demanded. “Now.”

  The vampire was very pretty. It was quite possible he’d been one of the Shadows’ human toys, offered immortality in return for good looks or good service. He didn’t make a formidable-looking security agent, but maybe that was the point.

  “She’s busy,” the vampire said.

  Ante took a step forward and lowered his voice to a rumble. “Whatever she is doing can wait.”

  After a brief hesitation, the vampire pulled out his phone and sent a text. The response appeared to startle him. “She’s, uh, sending someone down for you.”

  Not bothering with a thank-you, Ante walked to the elevators. One of them opened within a very short time, and he was not surprised to find Dorothy inside. “What’s got you all hot and bothered?” she asked as he stepped in.

  When he didn’t answer, she huffed impatiently and swiped the card for penthouse access. “I don’t know why you gotta make everything so hard,” she said. “When I was human? That was hard. I worked my ass off at a diner, and if my boss copped a feel every time he got near me, there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I had to scrimp and save every penny just to make rent. I bet life wasn’t any easier for you either.”

  “It was not,” he admitted.

  “But now we got it all. Nobody gives us crap, we sleep with whoever we want, and we never have to worry about watching our waistline.” She smoothed a hand across hers. “So why make a big deal out of things? Enjoy what we got!”

  He looked at her and asked an honest question. “Enjoy what?”

  “The money. The power. The sex.”

  “Two of those do not interest me. And the other….” The other had long ago become fairly tedious and mundane. Until Peter.

  Dorothy shrugged. “So take up a hobby. Knitting?”

  He was going to tell her exactly what she could do with her pointed wooden implements, but they’d reached the top floor. She trailed him as he strode into the big room, then almost collided with him when he stopped abruptly.

  Eadburg was there, this time in a black suit and stiletto heels, her hair piled atop her head in an elaborate arrangement. She stood near the long table, where a dozen other people sat. Ante recognized a few of the vampires, but not all. They were all dressed as if attending a business meeting. Which perhaps they were, because a complicated chart was projected onto one of the white walls nearby.

  Eadburg finished making a point about profit margins in nongaming space, then turned to glare at Ante. She had a remote control in her hand. “What?” she demanded.

  “Found what you were looking for.”

  Her answering smile would have terrified him if he’d still been alive. “You brought this item here?”

  “No. I need to speak with you about it.”

  Her grin turned into a murderous frown, and she tossed the clicker onto the table hard enough to crack the plastic. “Wait,” she ordered her audience. She marched down the hallway, and Ante assumed he was supposed to follow. Dorothy tried to join them but stopped when Eadburg growled over her shoulder.

  The room Eadburg led him to was an ordinary office, although with expensive furniture and a wonderful view. A sword hung on one wall, the only hint of adornment. Not that Ante had expected a potted houseplant or photos of children.

  “Well?” she demanded as soon as she’d slammed the door.

  “I found him.”

  “And?”

  “He does not wish to accept your employment.”

  She drew so close that they nearly touched. She was a tall woman to start with, and her stilettos allowed her to look down on him. “We give you some leeway because you’re a special case. He is not. He has no choice in this matter.”

  Although Ante knew pleading was useless, he tried. “He is harmless. He has no desire to be involved in your business dealings or anyone else’s. Why can you not leave him alone?”

  “What the fuck do you care?” And then comprehension lit her face. “Ah. Is the elf cute, Ante? Is he a good lay? Did you have a good time trading your whoring techniques?”

  Ante did not rise to the bait. “I will not assist you in this,” he said evenly.

  For a moment he was certain her fangs were going to drop. But then she took a deep—and unneeded—breath and stepped back. With a silent snarl in his direction, she pulled out a phone and stabbed viciously at it. Then she walked to the window and very pointedly ignored him.

  They remained in heavy silence for a long time.

  He knew what was coming before the door opened, based on the sensation in his veins. It was a pulling feeling, not entirely unpleasant—a sort of personal gravity. There was a promise to the tug too, as if by giving in to it, he’d find himself completed in some satisfying way.

  Then the door swung open and Lee Drake walked in.

  It was not his original name. That had been Ludvig Knutson, courtesy of his Swedish parents. But by the time he reached adolescence, he’d insisted on the more American-sounding Lee. He changed his last name later, after he died. While Drake sounded suitably American, it was also a Swedish word meaning dragon, which was intended as a bit of a witticism—an oblique homage to Dracula. Ante had never thought it was funny, although he’d quickly given up arguing the point.

  Tonight Lee looked like a wealthy businessman in his bespoke Italian suit, a white shirt, and a red tie. He’d slicked back his sandy hair to show off the fine bone structure of his face and to emphasize his pale blue eyes. “It’s been a while,” he said softly.

  Before Ante could respond, Eadburg hurried over. “He found that fucking elf, but he won’t—”

  “Go,” Lee said. Just the single syllable, voice low and uninflected. But Edie fled the room like a chastened schoolchild.

  “Can I get you something to eat?” Lee tilted his head as if in invitation.

  “I am not hungry.”

  “Shame. Don’t you remember how good it was when we fed from each other?”

  Ante did remember and had to suppress a shudder. One vampire could not be sustained by another vampire’s blood, but drinking it could be exquisitely pleasurable under the right circumstances. Like eating chocolate, for many humans.

  “I am not here for flirting,” Ante said.

  “You always were too direct for that anyway.” A slow smile spread across Lee’s face. “Remember when we met?”

  Of course Ante remembered. It was over a century now, but he could still recall the precise odors of piss, cheap liquor, and wet wool. It was snowing out that night, and Ante had entered the bar more to keep dry than in search of prey. He’d found a handsome young man in much-mended clothing, so penniless he could do nothing more than nurse a single watery beer. He’d come in from the snow too. And he was shy. His face had flushed scarlet when Ante bluntly offered him a bed for the night. But he’d been desperate, and he soon accompanied Ante to his tenement room.

  Where Ante murdered him.

  Now Lee walked close to him, still grinning. At a glance he might have been mistaken for a youth in his early twenties. But nobody would think that after taking a close look at his eyes.

  “You do remember,” Lee said, seeming genuinely pleased.

  “Of course,” Ante answered gruffly. The pull inside him was stronger now, and judging by the way Lee hovered close, he was experiencing it too. This, Ante thought, was how the moon and the Earth must feel.

  “You taught me so much. Gave me such gifts. Now all I want to do is give you something back, but you won’t let me.”

  “I do not want what you have to give,” Ante said.

  “Because… what? You’re the moral vampire? The virtuous fiend? All those scruples didn’t stop you from slaughtering me. And how many others? What’s your body count?”

  “I do not know. Shall we include the men I killed when I was alive?”

  Lee chuckled, reached for Ante, and let his arm fall. “I guess the numbers don’t matter. The point is, you’re no saint. And I’m no devil. You know that—you made me.” He showed the same innocent smile he’d had that cold night in a Bowery bar.

  “I know,” said Ante. And the sorrow and remorse were strong enough to overcome the urge to accept Lee’s offer. Ante moved away and crossed his arms. “I will not discuss the matter any longer. That is not why I am here.”

  Lee nodded with what appeared to be true regret. “So what seems to be the problem?” he asked, although Eadburg had undoubtedly filled him in via text.

  “I am refusing to bring the elf to you.”

  “Ah. I see. And why is that?”

  “He does not wish to come.”

  All traces of softness gone, Lee lifted his upper lip. “He doesn’t wish to. Do you think the maids who work here, spending hours cleaning up other people’s shit, wish to do so? Do you think those meth heads begging for enough to feed their addiction wish to? You could bring me a dozen random humans right off the Strip, and every one of them would run off a list of crap they don’t wish to do but have to anyway.” His voice grew louder, sharper. “Did I wish to claw my way out of a fucking grave and discover I’d never go out in the sun again?”

  Lee stomped to the desk, lifted the chair, and heaved it at the window with all his considerable strength. The window shattered. As the faraway street sounds stole inside, he spun back to face Ante, fangs extended. “I don’t give a fuck what anyone wishes!” he roared. “I’m not a goddamn genie!”

  Ante wondered what the chair had landed on. He hadn’t heard it crash. He was also slightly pleased that Eadburg would soon discover her office in need of repairs—and she’d be in no position to take out her wrath on the responsible party.

  “You’re smiling,” Lee growled. “This is funny?”

  “A bit, yes. I would have thought you old enough to have outgrown tantrums.”

  For a moment it looked as if Lee might throw something else. Maybe the desk this time. But he got himself under control, and when he spoke again, it was in a conversational tone.

  “I have a lot of power. I practically run this city. You know that.”

  “Yes.”

  “When anyone resists me, it weakens my position of power. Gets the minions thinking maybe they could challenge me. I let you do it because, well, our relationship is unique. But if I order a fucking elf to come chat with me, he’d better skip to it.”

  “Do you truly need this power?” Ante asked. “You could take your riches and leave. Have a comfortable existence.”

  “At a home for retired vampires? I don’t think so. Golfing at night probably sucks.” He came a few steps closer, his shoes crunching on bits of glass. “Bring me the elf, Ante.”

  “No.”

  “Then—”

  “Please, Lee. He is very young and he is….” Ante struggled to find the right adjective and finally settled for a shadow of the truth. “He is good.”

  “Good,” Lee repeated as if the word disgusted him.

  “Let him be. Even the greatest power can be tempered by mercy, by compassion.”

  “I’ve never seen you beg. Why do it for him?” Lee frowned in confusion and perhaps distress. “What’s so great about a goddamn elf?”

  It was an excellent question—one with no easy answer. Sure, Peter tasted delicious and the sex was good, but that hardly seemed worth battling over. Ante barely knew him. “I do not know,” he replied. But part of him had an inkling. It wasn’t so much Peter himself. After so many long years of simply existing, Ante felt the need to do something.

  As he realized this, Ante reached a decision.

  “I will not bring him to you,” he said again.

  “Fine. Fine. Then just tell me where he is and I’ll send someone else.”

  “I do not know where he is. I told him to flee. But even if I did know, I would not tell you.”

  “Ante,” Lee whispered. He crept close again, his eyes pools of sorrow. “This is me. I was yours, there at the beginning. I could be again. You can’t choose him over me.”

  “It is not so simple.”

  “But it is! It’s exactly this easy.”

  Ante shook his head. He’d known his entreaties would be useless, but he’d had to try. Apparently he still retained a few tatters of his self-respect.

  “I will not bring him to you,” he said for the third time. “And I will make every effort to protect him from whomever you send.”

  “No! You can’t win this, Ante. You have just you, and I have….” He spread his arms expansively. “I don’t want to lose you over this.”

  “We lost each other long ago.”

  Again Lee’s handsome features twisted with anger. He grabbed Ante by the hair and shirt collar and dragged him to the gaping window. Before Ante could protest, Lee had pushed him halfway through the opening.

  Glass cut into Ante’s belly, making him cry out. Far below, the lights of Las Vegas twinkled.

  “Do you think a vampire can survive a fall from the sixty-fifth floor?” Lee snarled into his ear. “And if so, what kind of shape would he be in?” He leaned his weight against Ante, pinning him in place more firmly.

  Ante certainly didn’t want to find out firsthand the answer to Lee’s questions. But as Lee pressed into him from behind and agony knifed through him, Ante found… he was not afraid. Instead he had an odd sense of peace. After so many blank decades, he’d made a decision. He had, in fact, found a reason to continue his existence.

  The realization flooded him with strength. Ignoring the pain, he wrenched himself backward, knocking Lee away. Ante rushed across the room and jerked the sword free of its brackets. He spun to face Lee, whose face was a mask of terror as he raised his arms.

  Moving deliberately, Ante stepped toward him.

  Then he dropped to his knees and set the sword on the floor between them.

  “What?” gasped Lee, still maintaining his defensive stance.

  Ante smiled and ran a bloody finger along the sword hilt, which was decorated with gold wheel designs.

  “Do you think this is an antique or a good replica?” he asked.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You may terrorize others, Lee, but not me. I remember when you were a miserable young man in filthy rags, so frightened that you pissed yourself when you first saw my fangs.”

  “I won’t—”

  “I was lonely and very foolish. I had hoped time would make an interesting companion of you, but instead you became a malicious beast. I deeply grieve that I did this to you. It is, perhaps, the greatest of my transgressions.”

  Lee was breathing heavily, as if he’d forgotten he didn’t need oxygen. He finally dropped his arms to his sides, but his legs remained in a slight crouch. “What are you doing?” he rasped.

  “You will not force me to do your will. If I leave here, I will do whatever I can to protect the elf from you, even if it means my own demise. So perhaps you will expedite matters and end me now.” Ante gestured at the sword. “It is heavy and the edges look sharp. You could decapitate me easily with a single blow.”

  After a slight pause, Lee picked up the sword and weighed it in his palms. “If I’m so awful, why don’t you try to kill me?”

  “I already did, once. Look where it got us.” Ante waved away Lee’s answering glower. “There would be no point in it. With you gone, Eadburg or someone else would take over, and they too would pursue the elf. Besides, I did you a grievous wrong. I will not compound it.”

  Lee’s jaw was clenched as he took the hilt in one hand and held the point to Ante’s neck. He pressed just hard enough to draw blood. “You do love your little morality sermons, don’t you?”

  “No sermon now. I do not believe that I can sway your course of action. But I also believe that somewhere inside you, the ghost of that innocent youth still lurks. You still hear his voice, although it is quiet. Perhaps you will listen to him.”

  The sword pressed deeper into the soft flesh of his throat, but Ante didn’t flinch. Physical pain meant nothing to him. He had not felt such peace since… well, since long before he died. He gazed up at Lee and smiled.

  With a roar, Lee flung the sword aside. “Get out. I will go after this elf, and if you get in the way, I will end you.”

  Moving awkwardly due to his wounds, Ante rose to his feet. “Understood.” Then he turned his back on Lee and left the room.

  Dorothy stood in the hallway, gaping; she’d probably heard every word. She didn’t say anything as Ante strode past, and nobody followed him to the suite’s door. He glanced over his shoulder to catch the gazes of Eadburg and the crowd around the table, who just stared.

  The sensation of lightness was so profound, he nearly floated to the elevators. Still bleeding, he grinned all the way down.

  Chapter Eight

  ANTE had begun to heal by the time he reached the Strip, but his bloodstained clothing caused passersby to stare in alarm. All the washing in the world wouldn’t salvage his T-shirt, which was also badly ripped. Grumbling, he hurried to the shopping mall attached to a nearby casino. He looked even more ghastly indoors, but the few other customers avoided him and the single security guard looked too stoned to notice, let alone care.