I managed to keep my mouth shut.

  "Okay," the witchling said, her blue eyes flinty with distrust and anger. "How about this? Where's the man from the photo?"

  "Dead," I said, unable to stop the word from sliding between my teeth.

  This wasn't right! This was not how it was meant to be! Did the All-Mother know? Is that why she sent me? To rid the rebellion she thought lurked in my mind and body? Was this witchling to be my final downfall?

  I struggled with the thought. With the realisation that I had been betrayed by the Leader of The Involition.

  "You don't look so good," Catalin commented.

  My jaw was clenched, my skin felt clammy, my heart beat too fast when it did not need to beat at all. I felt sick to my stomach. She did this to me. This…this witchling!

  I would not have it.

  A growl rumbled up from my chest and my fangs slid down. Instinct took over. In one swift move, I crossed the distance between us, occupying the space beside her on her couch. The light was dim. The couple near us were distracted. The bar was full, blocking any view of us from Catalin's colleagues.

  My hand wrapped around the side of her neck and my face nuzzled her throat. It happened in a fraction of a second; she did not have time to react. And once my fangs met her flesh and her blood coated my tongue, her power was ineffective.

  I swallowed, aware I had never tasted such ambrosia as this, but so out of control with madness and fear, I did not think anything of it. I could have drained her. I could have stolen her power and forced her to become my morroi. What things I could make her do!

  The room's ambient sound slowly seeped into my frenzied thoughts. I stopped drinking; tasting the residue of her soul on my tongue. So light, yet shadowed in darkness, so fresh, yet steeped in ancient magic, so delicious and captivating. A drug I was not meant to partake of.

  I pulled back, assessed my surroundings, and then looked the witch in the eye. I'd tasted her now. For as long as her blood remained in my body, her magia could not touch me. Her influence was reduced to that of any mundane woman in my arms.

  I smirked, traced a finger down her pale cheek, and then cupped my hand over her throat. A part of me I had never felt before awoke. A deeply hidden and unspoken urge to claim her as mine surfaced. I had never felt such ownership before. None of us alive today had ever had a witch thrall.

  Not that I had made Catalin mine. Something had stayed my hand in the end. Perhaps the location. There were certain steps required to seal the bond of a morroi to their maisu. Certain…sensual requirements to be met.

  My hand slid off the witch's neck and swept over her curves. What an interesting thought. What an intriguing notion. I felt my body stir with uninvited desire.

  The press of something solid registered through the lust consuming me. Under my arm, against my ribs. I glanced down. Catalin had drawn her gun. The bullet would not kill me but it would hurt. And the sound of the weapon being fired would draw too much attention. As it was, I had unwittingly released my magia into the air. I had made us all but invisible.

  But that would change if she fired the gun.

  "You wish to kill me, Catalin?" I asked.

  "If I have to, yes," she growled. "Get off me!"

  I smiled, my fangs peeking out between my spread lips. "But I like you right where I have you, Sorgina."

  I had never felt such a rush of unadulterated power over a witch before. It was addictive. It made me hungry. I wanted more of it. I suddenly wanted to dominate them all.

  My wrists tingled with a warning. The lotu flared as the spell the All-Mother had cast took hold.

  Catalin might be an unclaimed witch, so I could force my will on her without recourse. But to wish ill upon the witches of The Involition activated the curse.

  I stilled. Catalin scowled, holding the gun in a steady grip.

  "What the ever-loving hell are you?" she demanded.

  So close to the curse being woken, I answered. Truthfully.

  "Vampire," I said, and Catalin's finger on the trigger twitched.

  Cat

  "Don't be fucking ridiculous," I snapped. But hadn't he just bitten me? Didn't my neck still hurt? Still sting? I'd felt the draw of my blood; seen his sharp incisors. They were sharper and longer than they should have been.

  Was I going mad?

  The gun felt reassuring in my grip. Raphael's body pressed against my side was warm and very much real. I registered the couch beneath my thighs, the muffled sounds of an upscale bar at night, the dim lighting overhead. Everything came to me in snippets or sound bites between the thudding of my heartbeat.

  Ka-thud. Ka-thud. Ka-thud.

  Was I going crazy?

  I searched the face before me; the strange-coloured hair and eyes. The fangs were gone now; if they were ever there. His skin was pale as if kissed by moonlight; smooth and unblemished this close to him. He waited while I assessed him, then he licked his lips, parted them slightly; let me see the hint of a fang again.

  "That's not possible," I whispered.

  "And yet here I sit," he said.

  I scrambled away from him, surprised that he let me. Shocked I was able to move at all. I had one thought and one thought only at that moment. I had to get out of here. I had to put distance between us.

  "If you run," he murmured, his voice a low purr, "I will give chase."

  "Stay away from me!" I shouted.

  Sound rushed in — when I hadn't even realised my hearing had been sheltered before — and with it, Brant and Harlee.

  "What's going on?" Harlee demanded.

  "Rafe?" Brant queried, unsure whether to draw a weapon on me or him.

  "Everything is fine," Raphael said.

  "No, it's not," I growled. "This man is not your partner."

  Harlee looked at me with such compassion that I wanted to punch her in the face. Brant just looked awkward and unsure where to place his hands and feet.

  Raphael sat back on his side of the couch and smirked.

  I stared at him, my heart unable to slow its rapid beating. I could feel my pulse in my neck. Right where the creep had bitten me. What was this? Some elaborate hoax? Some drug-induced dream? What the hell was going on here?

  I reached up and touched my neck. The skin was smooth; no broken flesh, no wet droplet of spilt blood. Ah fuck! Had I imagined it?

  My eyes met Nonpareil's violet-hued gaze and I knew I hadn't imagined a thing. I wasn't sure what he was playing at but I didn't trust him, I didn't like him, and if I was the only one who could see through his act, then I had a responsibility to get to the bottom of this. Not to mention to protect everyone else from whatever sick game the bastard was up to.

  Ka-thud. Ka-thud. Ka-thud.

  I needed a moment to think; to assimilate. To come up with a plan of attack. I needed to get out of here.

  "I need some fresh air," I said, holstering my gun as I stood up from the sofa.

  The room spun immediately, and my head felt too light. As if I'd donated blood and not replenished it with a sugary drink afterwards. I glared at Nonpareil and pushed past an uncomfortable Harlee and a bemused Brant.

  I didn't think Raphael would harm them. He'd fed from me, so if he was a vampire like he claimed, he'd not need to drink again for a while. That's how it went, right? Argh! This was preposterous. What was I even thinking?

  I didn't look back. My flight or fight reflexes had well and truly kicked in. I was in pure flight mode and to hell with looking professional in front of a junior officer or a visiting fellow field agent. Part of me sent up a little prayer that Harlee and Brant were safe alone with the vampire. Ha! The vampire. What a joke. The rest of me just wanted to get far, far away from him.

  The cold night air hit me like a two-by-four to the chest and I sucked in a deep lungful of air.

  I shouldn't have run, I realised; my panic easing with increased oxygen. I should have stayed at least for Harlee's sake. I shook my head at myself and pulled my cell phone out to send her a text.

  Don't trust Nonpareil. Stay away from him.

  I waited, pacing in the dark of night.

  OK. Are you alright?

  I stared at the screen. Was it Harlee answering? Or had Raphael taken her cell phone from her and was trying to fool me?

  I dialled her number. When she answered, I could hear the sounds of the lounge in the background. Muted conversations, low soothing music, the clink of cocktail glasses. My stomach churned but at least my fingers weren't tingling.

  "Are you alone?" I asked.

  "I'm sitting with Brant," Harlee told me.

  "Where's Raphael?"

  "He suggested we stay to question the White Rose while he makes sure you're alright."

  My body spasmed, my blood chilled. I turned slowly and there he was, leaning against the door to the stairwell that led up to The May Tree.

  "He's here," I said, my body numb.

  "Are you really okay, Cat?" Harlee asked. I could hear the genuine concern in her voice. My heart ached.

  I muted the call and stared at Raphael.

  "Did you do anything to her?" I asked.

  "I didn't touch your workmate."

  I wasn't sure if that was a good enough answer. Could he do something without touching her? Would he simply lie to me to get me to cooperate? What did he want?

  I unmuted the cell phone; knowing what I had to do now. Settling into the disquieting thought with queasy determination. I felt ill, imbalanced, dizzy. He'd drunk my blood.

  My hand trembled, and my skin felt clammy. I gripped the cell phone to my ear and said, "I'm fine, Harlee. Just drank too much booze is all."

  "Oh, jeez." She giggled. I hadn't realised that I liked her giggle. So carefree when none of us in this job were carefree anymore. "You had me worried. I've never seen you drunk before. Do you normally see things when you're tipsy?"

  I sighed, my eyes never leaving Raphael. His eyes never left me. "Yeah," I said. "I hallucinate when I drink too much. It's embarrassing."

  "I won't tell anyone. You can count on me!"

  "Thanks, Harlee. And thanks for taking care of the White Rose."

  "You got it, battle buddy."

  I snorted into the phone and ended the call.

  "She's a good kid," I said, not sure why I was bothering.

  Raphael said nothing.

  "You did bite me," I added.

  "Yes."

  "You are a vampire."

  "Yes."

  "Brant doesn't know."

  "Of course not."

  "Then why reveal yourself to me?"

  I wasn't sure if I was still dreaming. If I'd been knocked unconscious or shot in the head, and this was a coma-induced psychotic break. I didn't believe a word of what I was saying, let alone what Raphael was trying to sell me.

  And yet…and yet… He bit me.

  Fuck.

  "There are things I cannot say," Raphael finally answered after leaving me hanging so long my mind had started having crazy — crazier — thoughts. Not at all healthy.

  "Why not?" I demanded. "I'm aware now. You blew your cover."

  He actually winced at that as if he had blown his cover when he shouldn't have.

  "There are rules to our world, Catalin," he said, running a hand through his freaky white hair and flashing me a glimpse of one of his gipsy bracelets.

  There was definitely a bone in it. And a feather. Gross.

  "What the hell have I got myself involved in now?" I muttered.

  "You were always involved," Raphael said distractedly. A thrown-away comment; dropped between us without any care.

  "How? I know I'm not a vampire."

  "There are more creatures on this Earth than vampires, Sorgina."

  "Like what? And why do you keep calling me Sorgina? What does it mean?"

  His lips twitched. "I cannot…"

  "…Say. Yeah, got it." I sighed, crossed my arms over my chest — hugged myself — and glared at him. Why did he have to be so pretty? "What now?"

  "I'm not sure," Raphael said musingly. His eyes roamed my body, my face. "I haven't decided yet. I have some leeway."

  "To do what? Feed on my friends before you leave the city?"

  "I eat the same food as you, Catalin."

  "What about the blood?"

  "It…" He waved his hand in the air. "You are hard to resist," he muttered.

  "Excuse me?"

  "It doesn't matter. For now, I think we'll just see how things play out."

  "So, this is a game to you. You murder Brant's partner of five years, take his place, magic yourself into the FBI agent's mind as if you belong there, falsify your identification, cross international borders, and plant yourself in my life for reasons you can't talk about. And it's all a fucking game?"

  "In a manner of speaking, yes."

  "Screw you! If vampires exist, then great. Fantastic. Now I know, I can look out for your creepy asses and steer clear of the lot of you. But I am not going to pretend you are who you say you are. You're fucking with a joint FBI and Interpol investigation. We've got rules, too, jackass. Leave Brant alone or I will…I will…"

  "You will what, Sorgina?"

  "Stop calling me that!"

  "But it fits."

  "I don't know what it means or even what language it is!"

  "And that is my problem?" He chuckled, the fucking creep. He thought this was all funny.

  I wanted to scream. I wanted to rant and rave, but he was right. How could I stop him from messing with Brant's mind without making myself look like an escaped lunatic?

  I couldn't. I'd had to lie to Harlee and make her think I had an alcohol problem to explain my behaviour in the bar. Not entirely unbelievable. Banana House and the monkeys would drive any sane field agent around the bend. But still. I did not have a drinking problem and now Harry would hear about it because Harlee — bless her dim but lovely little head — would let it slip the moment he looked at her funny.

  I stared at the man — the vampire — before me and realised my back was to a corner and I had no way of escaping it.

  "What do you want from me?" I said, my voice sounding hollow.

  "For now, your company." The words were spoken so quickly that I thought he'd been waiting for me to ask them.

  "I want nothing to do with you. You make me sick."

  He stared at me. "Do you think you have a choice, Catalin?" he asked.

  "I could refuse to be partnered with you. Pitch a fit at Harry. Get you reassigned."

  "To whom? Harlee? She would hardly pose a challenge. Perhaps you think one of the others would be better? I did my — what do you call it? — homework, Catalin. Dean has four beautiful children. So yummy. And Kai has a gambling problem. That's why he cheats on his expenses, by the way. Did you know that? No? Well, he does, and it would be but a simple thing to manipulate him into doing my bidding. I wouldn't even have to use an ounce of my magia. Too easy."

  My blood chilled. I could guess what magia was. I'd watched a few vampire movies. I knew the tropes. I got it. I did.

  But this was real. This was happening. And as shocking as the whole experience was, I felt a calm wash over me at that thought.

  Putting into words what my body had already told me.

  Vampires existed and one of them was standing right in front of me, threatening my co-workers so he could enjoy my company, and having drunk my blood.

  This was real.

  "Alright," I said. "You win this round."

  "Are we boxing?"

  "Oh, buddy, we are doing way more than boxing." I leaned forward and poked him in his broad chest.

  There was no give. He was rock solid. I might as well have poked a brick wall. What was the guy made of?

  Shaking my head to clear it, I said, "You and me, we're at war. I don't know where you come from, but you should be aware of how we fight down here in this part of the world. We're stubborn. We never give up. And if you go after what we love, we will annihilate you, your reputation, your family, and your whole damn life; piece by fucking piece." I stepped back. "I will not go down easy." It was a promise.

  He let out an amused breath of air and dusted himself off. "But Catalin," he purred. "You are not from down here. You are not even part of this world."

  Cat

  So, this was happening. This was real. I'd already established that, but it bore repeating. Any sane person would be denying this reality. I would have called myself sane this morning. Now, I wasn't so sure.

  But this was real. Vampires existed. One was sitting right beside me in my car.

  And there was a part of me, a part I tried very hard to ignore, that accepted this, that felt like something had clicked into place, and it felt comfortable about it.

  You are not even part of this world.

  My whole life, I've been a little different. But everyone thinks that growing up, right? I knew things before I should have known them. I reacted faster than anyone had a right to. My fingers tingled and my stomach flipped when I was in danger or I needed to do something important.

  It had got me in a lot of trouble before I knew how to respond to it. To hide it but listen to it. To trust it but never talk about it.

  It had earmarked me for Special Operations. Stuck me with the monkeys. Derailed my life on more than one occasion. And now blown my entire world into fractured pieces.

  I worked very hard on being normal, but a part of me — that tiny part I sometimes wished was not there — understood that normal was for other people and the man sitting next to me fit.

  Fit my life, fit my world; fit me.

  What the fuck was I if Raphael was a vampire?

  You are not even part of this world.

  What the fuck was my life becoming?

  I needed to know what I was up against, I decided. I needed to know what I was to him. He was here because of me; that was obvious. But why now? Why this case? I hadn't quite worked it out yet.

  I started listing things I did know inside my head. The kids had been missing for a month. That's a long time in an abduction case, but sailing from Hawaii — the timeline of abductions suggested that was their last port of call — to Papua New Guinea took time. Then there was the redirect down the Australian coast and across the Tasman Sea to us. A month was about right.