"There was no such witness in this case. The family was split down the middle between those who thought it had been a fair fight and those who didn't. That fracture has never healed. Lilith has to watch her back every day."

It sounds like the one ally I have, the one vampire who might have stood by the side of the Montgomerys, is in constant danger. Why should I not be surprised?

But it seems like everyone's life is at stake these days. We're heading into dangerous lands, into the maw of the beast, looking for help. Behind us, a new monster, an ever greater monster stands on the horizon.

As the moon shines its ominous glow on the ever-wasting road, I realize we may not stand a chance against him.

The sky is beginning to lighten when we reach a monstrous Gothic manor outside Chicago. A dozen vampires in black trench coats stand guard. They're holding machine guns. I guess this far to the east, their only enemy is humans.

"Why are we stopping?" I ask. The car has heavily tinted windows that the sun can't penetrate.

"It's a struggle for us to stay awake during the day," Victor says.

"But I could drive."

"And if you run into any trouble that requires our help?"

"Yeah, I guess that could be an issue," I say reluctantly.

Reaching across the console, he wraps his hand around mine. "Right now we have the luxury of being able to spare a few hours."

I nod. He's right. What difference will a few more hours make?

As we climb out of the car, the front door of the manor opens and a tall, slender man with slicked-back black hair rushes down the steps. "Oh my G.o.d, I can't believe it! Company. Old Family. Victor Valentine."

He takes Victor's hand and pumps it. "I can't tell you how long it's been since I've had visitors." He looks at me. "And this is . . . not a vampire."

"No," Victor says quickly. "This is Dawn."

"Your blood diva?"

"Yes."

I jerk my head around to stare at him. He shakes his head slightly. Apparently in the worrying about the death warrant against the Montgomerys, we didn't get a chance to discuss how we would play things here.

"Ah, Faith, you are as beautiful as ever." The Old Family vampire who doesn't look any older than Victor takes her hand and begins raining kisses over it.

"Oh, Xavier," she coos. "You flatter me."

"As much as possible. I've not seen a female since my father sent me to watch over his territory. How fortunate you are, Victor, that your father wanted to oversee his own estate. Come, come, inside quickly before the sun catches us." He wraps Faith's arm around his and begins to lead her toward the house. Tossing her head back, she laughs and pats his shoulder.

I glance over at Richard. He doesn't look happy.

"He ignored you," I say. "That was rude. I thought Old Family was all about etiquette and politeness."

"They're also about subtle insults."

With that caustic statement, Richard marches toward the house. I'm so accustomed to him being carefree and light that I don't know what to say.

"Xavier Romanelli gave him a cut direct," Victor says as he escorts me up the steps. "In the 1800s, it was a common way to show someone you disapproved of them."

"Why would this guy disapprove of Richard?"

"Because he's compet.i.tion for Faith."

"Okay, I get that, but why did you tell Xavier that I'm your blood diva?"

"So he'll keep his fangs out of you. Vampires won't take blood from another's diva without permission. And it was simpler than trying to explain why I'm taking a human to New Vampiria."

Once we're inside, a footman closes the door behind us. I'm not surprised by the beauty of the surroundings. Marble, gold, statues, paintings.

Richard is leaning against a wall, arms folded over his chest, glaring at Xavier as he keeps touching Faith's arm, shoulder, hand, and cheek.

Xavier looks at Victor. "Faith tells me that you're going to the Vampire Council, but surely there is no rush. You could stay a night or two."

"I'm sorry, Xavier, we are in a hurry. We stopped here only to wait out the sun. We can rest on the floor."

Xavier puts his hand to his chest and drops his jaw, clearly insulted. "Don't be silly. I'm already having beds prepared." He looks at Faith. "You can't leave the moment the sun sets. You must at least stay for a night feast. I have the most marvelous cook, a Lesser who prepared meals for Napoleon himself. The food is a sensual delight. Please, it's been so long since I've entertained. And your diva must eat in order to nourish you properly. It's so important to keep her blood fresh."

He licks his lips a little, eyeing me. Faith catches this and jumps in front of him, and he stares right into her low-cut dress.

Faith smiles. "I suppose we coulda""

"Faith," Victor warns.

"An hour," she says. "Where's the harm?"

"Wonderful!" Xavier shouts, and claps enthusiastically.

Because I'm Victor's diva, I'm given a room to share with him.

It contains a large four-poster bed with a canopy and heavy velvet drapes hanging down from it. A low fire is burning in the fireplace in front of a sitting area. Faith is right: Vampires have exquisite tastes whether they are decorating rooms or people.

"I need a moment," I tell Victor, and walk into the bathroom. I'm taken aback by all the gilded mirrors, vanities, and artwork. Okay, so maybe they aren't as infallible in taste as I thought.

I lean toward my reflection. It's the first minute I've had to really examine myself since we discovered what was hidden in the music box. I don't know what I expect to see. My black hair, my blue eyes, the crucifixes tattooed on either side of my neck. I pull my mouth back and run my tongue over my teeth. No fangs.

Somehow I thought I would look different. I thought I would spot something I'd overlooked before. I thought I would see some evidence of vampire.

"You're still you," Victor says right behind me.

I scoff. "I hate that you can do everything so quietly."

"Do you really?" he asks as he comes up behind me, puts his arms around me, and meets my gaze in the mirror.

"I hate that you can sneak up on me and I can't sneak up on you."

"You snuck up on me," he says. "Maybe not physically, but in other ways. I never expected to feel for you what I do."

"Even knowing what I am?"

He turns me around, cradles my face. "It doesn't matter what is coursing through your veins. You're Dawn."

I wish I could believe that. "How many times did I tell you that you couldn't escape what you are, that you couldn't escape being a monster because it's in your blood?"

"You've also told me that I'm not a monster."

He brushes his fingers along my hair, a soft but protective gesture. "We need to get some sleep. It's going to be a long drive."

Threading his fingers through mine, he leads me into the bedroom. The couch in front of the fireplace has been shoved back and pillows have been scattered about. Ignoring the bed, Victor guides me over, sits on one of the pillows with his back against the couch, and pulls me down so I'm resting on another pillow, my back to his chest.

"Thought you were tired," I say, my voice low, my heart doing little flips as he skims his finger along my neck and brushes my hair off to the side until it drapes over one shoulder.

"I am." He presses a kiss to my nape. "But we've had so little time together. I miss the way we were able to be together in the dreams we shared."

"If we go to sleep nowa""

"Dream-sharing, according to Faith, only happens when the couple is separated by a great distance. But it's okay, because I no longer need to dream of protecting you; I can actually do it."

"For someone who doesn't believe in this stuff, she sure knows a lot about it."

"My sister is complicated. But then, all girls are."

"I'm not."

"You're the most complicated of all."

"Like you're not complicated," I tease. His arms close around my waist. I fold mine over his and grow somber. "What about us, Victor?"

He presses his head to my shoulder. "We're complicated."

"Do you still crave my blood?"

I hear him inhale. "It still smells sweet, but I can resist it."

I swallow, trying to understand the consequences, trying to understand more about what I am and how it might affect my relationship with Victor. "Sin turned Bradya"a dhampira"into a vampire."

"Yes." He places his warm lips on the curve of my neck, right where it meets my shoulder. Pleasure pools through me. "So you're still not completely safe from me. I could turn you."

"But you won't," I say with conviction.

His arms tighten around me. "I won't."

I shift around so I can look at him. "You said I was your weakness, that your enemies would use me to get to you."

He gives me a wry grin. "Where Sin is concerned, it appears I may have been a bit narcissistic. He wants you for you. He has plans for you that won't go away even if I'm dead."

"Then where does that leave us?"

He traces his fingers over the curves and hollows of my face as though he treasures each feature. He leaves my lips for last, outlining them before stroking them, as though he's a painter filling in between the lines. "I don't know, Dawn," he says so quietly that I almost don't hear him. "I don't know where it leaves us."

He kisses me, gently, softly, as though I'm fragile. Or maybe he fears our relationship is.

"We need to sleep," he says. "Obviously dhampirs don't feel the weight of day in the same way that vampires do."

He struggles to his feet, pulling me up with him. We both climb onto the bed and position ourselves similar to the way we were sitting by the fire, my back to his chest, his arms wrapped around me.

As sleep drags me down, my mind wanders to the Council and the thirteen hungry glowing eyes staring at me through the darkness. Then I feel Victor pulling me nearer, holding me more tightly, and all my worries subside, leaving only the possibilities of something better for us . . . once we've dealt with Sin.

I wake up to a steady knocking on the door. With a moan, I work my way out of Victor's embrace and sit up. The fire in the fireplace has died. I feel incredibly rested. Somehow I can sense that it's night.

Victor rolls out of bed, crosses the room, and opens the door. He chuckles. "No."

"Yes." Faith pushes her way in. She's wearing an elaborate red ball gown, something that was worn two hundred years ago. It's satin and lace. Bares her shoulders. It rustles with her movements. She's carrying something that looks similar, only it's deep purple. She tosses it on the bed. "Dinner tonight is to be formal."

My eyes widen. "You want me to wear that?"

"Xavier does. Leave, Victor, so I can help her get ready."

"Faitha""

"We promised him an hour," Faith says, cutting him off. "It won't kill us to be dressed for the occasion. Your clothing is in Richard's room."

"I'm not wearing any of it; what I have on is fine."

"Oh, Victor, relax, have a little fun."

"Fun? Faith, you may enjoy changing outfits every hour, but putting on clothes once a night is enough for me."

"I don't change clothes every hour." She sniffs. "Every half hour maybe. Now, go on, get out of here. We have work to do."

"But we are leaving as planned."

"Of course."

Victor gives me a smile filled with apology before walking out of the room and closing the door.

I crawl over the bed and touch the soft material, rubbing it between my fingers. I had to wear Victorian clothing when I met with Murdoch Valentine, but it was more suited to funerals than parties.

"I realize you'd be more comfortable if it came with a hood," Faith says.

I glance up at her. "It's beautiful. It's just that it's not me."

"When I'm finished with you, for the next hour, it will be."

Faith does more than help me get into the gown. She fixes my hair and applies makeup. When I look in the mirror, I can hardly believe what I'm seeing. Faith curled my hair so it's full and flowing down my back. The gown is cut low, a little too low. I tuga"

"Leave it," she orders.