“I see,” he said. “Why?”

  Why the outing, he meant. Why come after me in such a public - Norm noticeable - way?

  “I refused to obey him. To be a tool for him to use.”

  “You’ve had a run-in with him before,” Gregor surmised. “The SubZero case.”

  I nodded and leaned back against the sink behind the bar, sipping my drink nonchalantly. As if I believed I could still get out of this with my head in one place.

  “Georgia staked him,” Samson said. I checked, and it was Samson talking; the Black Dog had retreated when he realised I was out of immediate danger. “I saw her do it.”

  “But he fell from the top of a skyscraper,” I added, “and by the time we got down to ground level any dust that might have existed had been blown away.”

  “The stake?” Amisi asked.

  “Missing.”

  “That alone would indicate he survived and took it with him,” Gregor announced.

  “A silver stake,” I countered.

  “Your stake,” he corrected. “Was he aware of what you were?”

  “Not at first,” I said, running a hand through my hair and then noting the drink still resting in my other one. I took a healthy swallow. “But by the time I staked him, he was up with the play. Most of it, anyway.”

  Gregor smiled. It was a chilling smile. He knew some of my secrets; more of them as of today.

  “And you believe he is behind these abductions, this outing in Parliament?” Gregor asked. But I thought perhaps he already knew the answer.

  I just nodded.

  “He’s working with the Fey,” he surmised.

  “He worked with them when he doctored the SubZero drink, too,” Samson offered.

  “He has connections, then.” Gregor looked at me and demanded, “What did you say his name was?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Then enlighten me.”

  “You’re not my master.”

  “This has happened because you do not have a master,” Gregor said reasonably. I didn’t feel reasonable about any of it. “Had you joined a line, we may well have been able to avoid such a calamity.”

  “The press doesn’t believe it.”

  “They will if more evidence is presented. We must get on top of this before it spreads internationally.”

  “New Zealand would be the laughing stock of the world’s press,” I said.

  “Do you remember your history? Salem? Bram Stoker?”

  “Salem was about human witches, and Bram Stoker was fiction.”

  “Was it? Ask Michel.”

  No thanks.

  “And the Salem Witch Trials,” Gregor went on when I said nothing, “and others like them worldwide, took a large number of Nosferatin with them. Along with their kindred.”

  “Their kindred?” I asked.

  “Kindred Nosferatu,” Gregor said dismissively. As if I should have known this already.

  I hated being the last to know everything.

  “I don’t know what a kindred Nosferatu is,” I said through gritted teeth. “Some kind of freak vampire?”

  Gregor looked at Amisi and then slowly turned his head to look at Samson.

  “Did Lucinda not tell her?”

  “I…” Samson managed and then shook his head. “I don’t know,” he added.

  “Clearly not. Your mistress has been negligent.”

  “Don’t,” I warned. “Don’t blame Lucinda.”

  Samson blinked at me. I refused to look directly at him. I kept my gaze averted from everyone. I carried too much guilt for how I’d acted. Even if it had been the only way I’d been able to keep my head above the water - or blood as the case may be - at the time.

  But then Lucinda had left for London.

  “So, what is it?” I asked. “This kindred Nosferatu thing.”

  “It’s just kindred,” Amisi said softly. “A kindred pairing between a Nosferatu and Nosferatin. It’s what binds us together. Makes us stronger.”

  It sounded a hell of a lot like a mating.

  “Is it sexual?” I asked.

  Gregor smirked. “It can be.”

  “But not always,” Amisi said, shooting Gregor a glare. “It’s Nut’s gift to us.”

  “I’m not sure Nut was thinking of us when she said we had to pair up with a vampire,” I told her.

  Amisi smiled. It was at once beautiful and caring and steeped in sadness. I thought perhaps it was sadness for me; for my outlook on life. For my mistrust and negativity.

  “We hunt them,” Amisi said. “We give them our Light and banish their Dark. We release them from their prison; bring them the final death. But to do this, we must also love them.”

  “That makes absolutely no sense,” I snapped.

  “Au contraire, ma petite Nosferatin,” Gregor said. “For how could you give of your Light; give of your essence, what makes you you, if you don’t feel a connection to us? We are all not so selfless, I think, to open ourselves to such a degree and part with that which makes us whole. Our Goddess merely made sure we remained as one community through the ages, ensuring that time did not do us damage as the sun or silver would.”

  I shook my head.

  “How old are you?” Amisi asked.

  “What’s that got to do with it?” I demanded. I was pretty sure I’d stopped ageing when I was turned, died and saved.

  “Just humour me, please,” Amisi urged.

  “Twenty-six.”

  She looked at Gregor. He raised an eyebrow and looked back at me, studying me again.

  “Would you stop doing that,” I growled.

  He ignored me and looked at Samson.

  “She hasn’t joined with you.” It wasn’t a question. Samson growled at it anyway. “Then who has she joined with?”

  “No one,” I snapped. “I’d know if I’d joined with someone. Wouldn’t I?”

  “Yes,” Amisi said walking around the bar and approaching me. I almost wanted to tuck tail and run. Far away. “I can see the Light,” she said. “I can see you’re Nosferatin; there is no doubt. But you are also Nosferatu. Perhaps a kindred joining is not necessary.”

  I’d take that as a win any day, even if I didn’t understand what this kindred joining thing was.

  “That does not mean it’s not possible,” she added, making me sputter and wave my hands around.

  “Get away from me,” I snarled. “You’re all crazy.”

  “Of course,” Gregor said, taking a leisurely sip of his Martini, “who would be desperate enough to join with her?”

  Samson’s growl this time was frightening.

  “Mine,” the Black Dog said.

  “Yes, yes, but even you in your heyday would not have attempted such a pairing.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” I demanded. “Do you know his vampire-within?”

  Gregor looked at Samson. The Black Dog looked back.

  Both of them said, “Yes.”

  I stared at Samson and then looked at Gregor and finally turned my attention to Amisi.

  “I’m lost,” I said.

  Amisi sighed. “There is much we do not know about Twin Souls,” she said.

  And OK, I’d had enough of the kooky mumbo-jumbo for one day. Even directing everyone’s attention back to the matter at hand - namely my picture up on the evening news - wasn’t as bad as all of this.

  “The Champion,” I said.

  “Does not have a kindred,” Gregor supplied.

  I growled at him. He just smiled.

  Then finished his drink and held the empty glass out to me.

  “If you’d be so kind,” he said.

  I scowled at him and thought about spitting in his cocktail, but the professional bartender in me won out.

  “She hasn’t contacted me yet,” Gregor said, once I started mixing his drink for him.

  “And how will she do that?” I asked, placing the olive on the rim of the glass, just so.

  “Telephone,” he said, accepting the drink with a type of charm he had no right possessing.

  “Oh.” I’d expected a different answer. Maybe telepathy or something.

  “Of course, she could just visit.”

  “I thought you said she wouldn’t come here!”

  “Not in corporeal form,” Gregor clarified. “But she can project. It compromises her, although not many know it and she’d have my head for saying it here. But it does, and it is worth noting.”

  Why would he help me by saying that?

  “So, what do we do?” I asked, finally taking us to the crux of the matter.

  It had taken two Martinis, two Margaritas, a Cosmopolitan and a Manhattan, not to mention hocus-pocus and a history lesson to get here. But that’s vampires for you.

  “We need to locate your Sire,” Gregor said. “We also should add our own flavour to the stories emerging in the press.”

  “It would help to erase the memories of the MPs,” Samson offered.

  “Yes. If they suddenly can’t remember a thing, then their account becomes less reality and more mental instability.”

  “They’re MPs,” I said. “They run the country. You can’t mess with their heads.”

  “Their heads have already been messed with,” Gregor said reasonably.

  “That’s my point. How much more can they take?”

  “As much as is needed to right this mess.”

  He said that looking pointedly at me as if this mess was because of me. And I guessed it was really. Xavier was my Sire.

  “You should know,” I said, wiping down the bar as if I were getting paid to do it, “I couldn’t counter the witnesses’ lost memories when I tried. Something the fairy had done made it resistant to Sanguis Vitam or glazing.”

  “You’re just a well of interesting information, aren’t you?” Gregor said.

  I said nothing.

  “I could do it,” Samson offered.

  I started shaking my head immediately.

  “Hear me out, Gigi,” he pressed.

  “No,” I replied.

  “It has to be done.”

  “I said no.” It would make him Darker. It would make Lucinda’s Light disappear. “Definitely not.”

  “It’ll be all right,” he soothed.

  “No.”

  “I have to do this. Mate.”

  It was him, and it wasn’t him. It was part the Black Dog and part the man I loved. And it had been said with such conviction, such devotion, I didn’t know what to say in return.

  “Then it’s settled,” Gregor announced. “Samson will deal with the MPs.”

  He didn’t even ask what Samson would do that I hadn’t done. If he knew of Samson’s talent, he wasn’t saying. I thought he couldn’t possibly know, Samson hadn’t even told Lucinda. But maybe Samson’s talent was the Black Dog’s talent, and Gregor knew the Black Dog. They had a history together. A history that Samson and Gregor did not have.

  “Georgia will hunt her Sire,” Gregor added. “And I’ll work my magic with the press.”

  It made sense. It all made horrible, terrible sense. But I couldn’t help thinking it was a mistake. That we were walking into a trap. And no matter what I did, I couldn’t stop the inevitable from happening. I couldn’t protect Samson. He wouldn’t even be with me. I’d be too far away hunting Xavier.

  I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t see another way.

  I stared up at the TV screen showing the image of me flashing fangs. When had it been taken? How had I not known a camera was there? Had Xavier been that close and I hadn’t even sensed him? Scented him? Had he used the shadows?

  I looked down at the empty glasses on the bar top and began to clean them.

  It was something I had control over at least.

  Gregor stood up as if the discussion was over and everything had been decided. And then he stopped suddenly and cocked his head to the side; a low, threatening growl followed.

  “What now,” I muttered as Amisi approached him.

  “What is it?” she asked, but Gregor spun and glared at me.

  “Must you draw every single master vampire to you?” he snarled. “You’re as bad as Lucinda. At least her ability was prophesied. You’re just an unexpected pain in the arse.”

  The door to the clubroom opened and in swept Sanguis Vitam to rival Gregor’s.

  I arched my brow and then crossed my arms over my chest, glaring up at the Master of Wellington City.

  “I didn’t invite him,” I said.

  “You didn’t need to,” Gregor growled. “And I should have been the one doing the inviting.”

  Or declining, I thought.

  “Master of the City,” a deep, resonant voice announced. “Forgive the intrusion. But you’ve got a vampire of mine who appears to be in a spot of trouble.”

  Jett stood at the edge of the dance floor staring at Gregor. Power rolled off him in waves of prickling energy. Some of it stroked down my side and swatted me on the bum.

  I growled. Samson growled. Gregor growled. The only one not growling was Amisi.

  Jett smiled. I wasn’t sure if there were any more shoes that could drop.

  I sure as shit hoped not.

  22

  Scared

  Jett stared up at the news on the TV while Gregor stared daggers at Auckland’s Master of the City. I understood how unusual it was for Jett to be here. Impossible even without an invite; he could have been inciting war between himself and Wellington’s Master of the City.

  Which meant Jett believed his presence here was essential. But why?

  He lowered his azure blue eyes to my face and winked at me. Then he turned slowly, leisurely, toward Gregor.

  “We have much to discuss.”

  “Yes,” Gregor said stiffly.

  “It will require privacy.”

  “Agreed.”

  Gregor began moving off toward a door at the rear of the club.

  “Hold on a minute,” I said, either because I was suicidal or I hadn’t had enough shoes drop on my head. “Why are you here?”

  “Kitten,” Jett said making Samson growl low and long. Jett ignored him, but I noticed Gregor flick his eyes between Samson and Jett and then me, putting it all together. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t come?”

  “Well, yeah,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

  Jett took a step toward me. It took all I had not to step back. And the fact that a bar top was between him and me didn’t even factor into my tuck tail and run plan.

  “You are still my vampire,” Jett said.

  “In what universe?” I asked. The amor certamen was over. I hadn’t joined his line. He was merely the vampire in charge of the city I chose to reside in.

  “Do you turn your back on your family and friends so easily?” Jett asked.

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “Auckland is your home. Your kin’s home. Auckland is mine.”

  I sighed. “That doesn’t make me your vampire, Jett.”

  He smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Don’t make me prove it,” he said softly. “You won’t like what I would be forced to do.”

  Did he just threaten me?

  “Screw you,” I said and started for the door of the club. Night was almost here; if I was careful and used the shadows, I could make it some distance before he was done with Gregor.

  Of course, I probably should have waited until he and Gregor were out of the room.

  Jett flashed to stand before me, blocking my path. Samson shifted, but I held up a hand and stalled him. Thank Nut for Samson’s gentlemanly nature, because he hesitated long enough for me to set the tone for this confrontation.

  “I don’t care why you’re here, Jett. I have a rogue to hunt. And if you get in my way, so help me God, I will stake you. Don’t make me prove it. You won’t like what I would be forced to do.”

  His lips twitched. Why was it that he always found me funny when what I’d been going for was threatening, or at the very least, annoying? Having my words thrown back at me always annoyed me. But Jett Vardi had to be different, didn’t he?

  “This is not over,” he whispered and flashed across the room to where Gregor waited.

  I watched them leave through the back door and disappear down a dark hallway, and then I turned toward the exit.

  “I’m coming with you,” Amisi announced.

  Jett couldn’t make me stumble. Gregor couldn’t either. But Amisi saying that certainly did.

  “Wh…what?” I stammered.

  “You’re hunting a rogue. That’s what I do best. And don’t tell me you can’t use the backup.”

  She stood with her hands on her hips and a defiant look in her eyes.

  “Georgia,” Samson said as if he were trying to convince me this was a good idea.

  It was a good idea; I didn’t need Samson telling me that. But I’d never worked as a team before. Even when Lucinda had still been in Auckland, we’d hunted separately. Often crossed paths on the same hunt, but never stuck around long enough to high five when the dust had settled.

  This would be different, and I wasn’t sure that I was any good at being a team player.

  “I can tell you more about kindred joinings,” she offered.

  “There’s more?”

  “Yeah. And you need to know it.”

  That didn’t sound good. But she had a point.

  “All right, then,” I said, making out that I was doing her a favour, “you can tag along. But don’t get in my way.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said with a beatific smile.

  I blinked at her. Did nothing get this woman down?

  Shaking my head, I started toward the exit. I didn’t make it.

  Samson stepped into my line of sight. I braced for some show of machoism; some alpha male display. I should have known better; this was Samson, not Jett.

  “Babe,” he said and reached up to cup my face. “We will meet again at dawn’s first light. You have my word.”

  I covered his hand with my own and stared into chocolate and cinnamon eyes. I could have stared at him all night, but the moon had risen, and my Sire was out there. And sooner or later, the press would identify the vampire in that image up on the TV. And somewhere a fairy was messing with MPs’ minds.

  We didn’t have time for this but try as I might, I couldn’t leave without touching him. Feeling him. Scenting him.