Iban's shoulders shook with soundless laughter. Connie was so wrapped up in Sullivan that Iban and I had clearly faded into the background.

"Do I brood?" I asked him.

"Not so you'd notice," he whispered. "Isn't she your girlfriend? I think I met her at the party. She's exquisite."

"She was my girlfriend," I muttered.

"Ah. Sorry I asked."

Connie was busy asking Sullivan question after question about film production and he seemed only too happy to answer them.

As I watched I thought about what Melaphia had said: Connie was a G.o.ddess. And she was a G.o.ddess all right. To me, anyway.

And much to my annoyance, I could see that Sullivan found her just as divine. They scarcely took their eyes off each other. I was beginning to think I'd rather let her send me up in flames than stomach seeing her with another man.

"Hey, I've got a great idea," Sullivan said, turning to Iban. "Why don't we hire Ms. Jones to do some security work for the production?"

"Call me Connie," she cooed.

"She works the night shift," I blurted out. "Aren't you going to do the shooting at night, for...atmosphere?" Because the director is a vampire.

"I've got vacation coming," Connie stated, finally looking me in the eye.

"They could be here for weeks," I said.

"Fine. I have weeks of vacation," she shot back. She turned her attention back to Sullivan and flashed a flirty smile. "I'm all yours."

If I'd had a wrench in my hand, I could've broken it in two.

"Splendid!" Iban announced. "When can you start?"

"Tomorrow and the next day are my nights off anyway. I'll talk to my watch commander at the end of my shift. I might be able to get free as early as the night after that."

"Fantastic," Sullivan said. "Why don't you meet me for lunch tomorrow and we'll discuss terms. Say Il Pasticcio at one?"

"It's a date," Connie said, beaming. She favored me with one more glance, a decidedly narrow-eyed look, a look that said, Take that, sucker. She waved good-bye and walked away, treating us with the always luscious view of Consuela Jones walking away in her fitted uniform, her handcuffs gleaming on her belt. Oh, mama.

Talk about a revolting development. Who knew what kind of cozy daytime get -togethers this guy could cook up? He could propose anything on thinly disguised business reasons. I pictured security planning meetings that turned into romantic picnics by the sh.o.r.e with mint juleps and stolen kisses. I sneered at the guy as he watched her walk away, and my fists flexed at my sides. Iban caught my eye and shrugged apologetically.

I sighed. What the h.e.l.l. At least they'd only be here for a few weeks. But what then? There would always be somebody in the wings. Somebody who could walk beside her in the sun. Somebody who wasn't me.

Stake me.

Seven.

William Tilly's house on Orleans Square smelled old. Not old as in decrepit or decaying, but old as in antique, timeless, well -used.

Nothing here from the two Rs of the furniture bible of don'ts-reproduction and restoration. Everything-from the Aubusson and Savonnerie rugs to the Louis XV furniture to the Lafount chandeliers-was original and had been kept in pristine condition by a series of housekeepers. Not unlike Tilly herself, although recently the years had begun to weigh on my old friend.

She hated that designation and would remind me tartly that I carried some age as well-far more than she. Tilly warned that if I expected her to remain silent about our eighty-year a.s.sociation then I should refrain from bringing up age in any fashion. So according to her wishes, I just called her Tilly. "Mrs. Granger" was out of the question. She hadn't used her husband's name in forty years and I certainly had no good reason to bring it up.

She took to Iban right away.

During an evening of chitchat and libations, Tilly held court in her favorite wingback chair by the fireplace. It was a small gathering, including the manager of her holdings and his wife, two sets of neighbors, her lawyer, and her doctor. Dinner had been served by the time I arrived, since, in deference to me, she didn't want to have to explain why I did not-could not-eat. And defying convention, the parlor was empty of mirrors. Her eccentric habits were well known by born and bred Savannahians, however, and no one would have questioned anything she did. As I regarded her, I recalled the promise she'd extracted from me twenty or so years earlier-that I would take her life at a time of her choosing.

Alas, Tilly was not a blood drinker. She was human through and through. A light in my darkness and, these days, a worrisome puzzle of responsibility.

Iban, ever the courtier, had laid a kiss on each of her cheeks in European fashion. But Eleanor had kept her distance, and as she clung to me I could see that Tilly disapproved. Oh, not of Eleanor's questionable past occupation. No. A woman like Tilly could admire any woman who took control of her own destiny. After all, she'd managed to do the same after some dark deeds only I remembered now.

I believe Tilly's reluctance to warm to Eleanor had more to do with me than Eleanor herself.

"You have such a lovely home," Iban said, looking deeply into Tilly's sharp blue eyes. "In California, where I am from, we are stranded in the idea that new is better. Even our cla.s.sic designs are built over the originals." He smiled. "I firmly hold to the idea that many things grow better with age."

From that moment, Tilly's heart was won.

We spent the evening drinking, chatting about the upcoming spring social season and the current favorite chef at the Emerald Grill. It was nearly eleven before Iban's plans for his next movie became the topic.

"Another movie in Savannah? We still haven 't lived down the last," Tilly's lawyer, Charles Yancy, said with a huff of exasperation. "Oh now Charlie." Tilly patted his arm. "You can't keep all of our secrets from the rest of the world."

"What is your movie about?" Charles asked.

Iban's gaze shifted imperceptibly to me before he smiled at the lawyer.

"Why, vampires, of course," he answered.

Beside me, Eleanor's body tightened slightly. I dropped my hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. Stay calm. Iban knows what he's about.

Tilly clapped her hands together with the delight of a child. "Vampires, how wonderful!"

"Yes, you could say that it is my speciality. My production company is called After Dark. We've made several films in the last few years.

"Savannah has the perfect atmosphere and ambiance for a grand tale of the toma sangre. Blood drinkers," he translated.

"Well, I suppose it can't hurt us more than murder and transvest.i.tes," Charles allowed.

Since few of those present were horror aficionados, the discussion veered off into cla.s.sic movies in general. When Casablanca's elevation to favorite movie of all time was announced, Tilly beckoned for me to help her into the library on the pretense of looking at an antique table she'd recently acquired. As I stood to hand her the rosewood cane she used to make her current housekeeper happy, I felt Eleanor's distress.

I nodded in her direction. There was no reason for her to worry. Although those at the gathering had been more polite than friendly, that wasn't so unusual. Eleanor would have accomplished more by smiling and joining the conversation, rather than depending on me to deflect any attention from her.

It turned out Tilly was of much the same mind.

"She's trouble," Tilly said, not one to mince words. As always, she'd protected my secrets by waiting until I closed the library door behind us.

"Now, Tilly, you're just jealous," I teased.

She smiled and touched my face with her hand. "Maybe a little," she admitted. "If I were only eighty years younger. But then, I had my chance, didn't I?" She dropped her hand, not giving me time to reply, and made her way to a chair across the room. "Pour me a cup of tea, would you?"

I did as she asked. She waited for me to be seated near her and deliver the tea. After raising the cup with a surprisingly steady hand and taking a sip, she continued the conversation.

"Oh, she's fine and all that, even with her...occupation. But not for a lifetime, or ten lifetimes...not forever. You deserve better."

I had no response to her declaration. When it came to women, I'd always been the absolute worst at deciding what I deserved.

I suppose Reedrek had decided for me. "I'm happy," I said. "For the first time in-oh, I don't know how long."

"I can see that." She drew herself up straighter. "So I won't hara.s.s you about her. I've always wished you well." She gave me an impish grin. "Now your friend Iban, on the other hand, him I like."

"You've been flirting with him all evening."

She gave an exaggerated sigh. "Of course I have. He's as handsome and dashing as Zorro himself. And that lovely accent. I hope you'll bring him back one evening soon so the three of us can sit and really talk." I noticed she'd left Eleanor out of the equation. "I'll try. He should be here for a few weeks. We have some business to attend to, and then there's his movie project."

"Good." She spent another long minute with her teacup before getting to her next point. "I wanted to ask if you remember your promise to me."

Something near the region of my undead heart sank. "Of course I remember, but please don't speak of it," I answered. "I just hope the day never comes."

"An impossibility, dear one," she said as she stared into the fire. "I'm not looking forward to it. But some things are worse than death, you know?" After another moment she shook off her melancholy and held out the empty teacup to me. "Let me get back to my guests before they think we're up to something in here. No use ruining both our reputations again, like in the good old days. It's taken fifty years for people to forget."

I set the cup aside, raised her to her feet, and kissed her lightly on her mouth. Her hands tightened on my arms. "Do you remember the nights you took me to the Cloister on Sea Island and we danced under the stars? Every woman on the property turned positively green with envy."

"I remember that you were the most beautiful woman there," I answered truthfully.

"Oh, we were such a scandal. What fun!" She smiled into my eyes. "Will you dance with me one more time when I call for you?"

"It would be my utmost pleasure, dearest."

"I'm so glad to be out of there," Eleanor said as we made our way down Tilly's front walk.

"You mean you didn't enjoy acting 'normal'?" Iban teased. He slipped an arm around her for a brief embrace. "There was no danger. I would have protected you with my life."

"I wasn't afraid of them. I just didn't enjoy the audience with the queen," Eleanor said, frowning.

"Ah," Iban replied and slid his arm from her shoulders. "That is something you must take up with William, then, although I enjoyed her very much."

"What was that promise she mentioned as we were leaving?" Eleanor asked. I could feel her jealousy like heat from a well - stoked fire.

I smiled as Chandler opened the door of the limo for us. When I turned to look back toward the house, I could see Tilly standing in the window, watching us leave.

"She made me promise that I would kill her, of course."

Both Eleanor and Iban stood dead still.

"What?" Eleanor asked.

"Why would she think you would kill her?" Iban asked.

"Because I killed her husband."

Jack "Why can't I go to the meeting?" Werm whined, stomping his boot heel on the floor of the plantation's veranda.

I wanted to say, Because you're a whiny little dips.h.i.t, but I didn't. I was trying to be a good mentor.

"We've been over this," I said, watching the New York delegation pile out of a limo in the driveway. I 'd heard from William's man Tarney that he and his crew had unloaded enough luggage, not counting the coffins, out of these people 's private jet to last a month. They'd demanded to stay separate from everybody else "with a view of the sea," according to William, so he'd put them up at his other mansion at Isle of Hope. Tonight they were here for introductions and preliminary discussions in advance of the meeting tomorrow. Tobey, Gerard, and Iban were already inside. "You're lucky I don't make you park cars," I told Werm.

"But it'd be a great learning experience."

That was a fact, all right. Only trouble was he would learn a lot more than he really wanted to know. Like how deep in doodoo we all were, potentially. He already knew about the big bad vamps in Europe. But as far as he knew the worst thing that could happen to you was eternal death. He didn't know that Reedrek and his buddies preferred to keep you undead and bleeding.

Eternal torture was their style. Why dispatch you to h.e.l.l when they could keep you around and have a little fun?

After the run-in with Reedrek, William had clued me in on what Reedrek had done to some friends of his, little things like cutting off limbs to watch them slowly grow back, or forcing offspring to feed off one another to a point just short of death. William sent some of the white-hatted good guy vamps to save them, but if I 'd had to endure what they did I'd probably have begged my rescuers to go ahead and stake me. Knowing about this stuff finally made me understand why William kept me innocent all those years. In some ways, he'd been doing me a favor. I would do Werm the same courtesy and spare him the gory details. For now.

"Don't worry. I'll fill you in on whatever you need to know about vampire militias and elder councils later," I said.

The delegation from the great state of New York swept by without so much as a nod acknowledging Werm's and my presence.

It had been a long time since William had imported their leader, Lucius Dru, along with a couple of his offspring. Lucius was one of the European blue bloods who'd treated me like the hired help. He acted like he was freakin' Dracula himself. Old World and old school. Now he looked and dressed like a mafia don. His suit and shoes must have cost thousands. And the others with him were decked out, too.

He'd brought a whole entourage with him, including a few human staff members. More compadres, I guessed, or whatever they called them up in Yankeeland.

Chandler ushered the group into the foyer as Werm sat on the railing of the veranda. "What do they do for a living to afford those mink coats and expensive suits?" Werm asked. He was still struggling with the concept of making a living as a vampire. I think he imagined that once he became a bloodsucker, his money worries would be magically over. Before I'd threatened to drain him to a bag of dusty bones if he preyed on humans, he'd been planning to stalk people, suck their blood until they pa.s.sed out, and then make off with their cash. After I'd told him to think real hard about waking up in the city lockup with sunshine pouring through the bars, he'd reconsidered his career choice and was still working part-time at Spencer's at the mall-night shift, of course. We supplemented his income by paying him for the odd jobs we asked him to do. It was only fair.

"They run a bunch of art galleries and trade a lot of high-end paintings and sculpture. The clan lives in a block of apartments in the Dakota." Melaphia said Lucius had taken a page out of William's book and gotten his own import business started up-only he brought in priceless works of European art and sculpture through New York Harbor instead of antiques and bloodsuckers.

"Wow," breathed Werm. "That is so cool. I wish I lived in New York City."

I shook my head. I'd heard you could walk down Park Avenue with a live chicken on your head in New York City or sing in the middle of Times Square in your underwear like that Naked Cowboy guy and n.o.body would spare you a second glance. No wonder Werm thought The City was a cool place.

In addition to selling the old masters, Lucius had developed homegrown contemporary painters and offered eternal life to the ones he thought had real staying power. William didn't approve of making a lot of new vampires. After all, he'd made only three since he came to this continent-me, Werm, and Eleanor-and he was forced to make Werm. But once an imported vamp left William's territory and protection, he was more or less a free agent.

Thinking about Eleanor gave me an uncomfortable stab of guilt. I 'd pushed Olivia's lie so far back in my mind that I'd almost forgotten. I had to get my unhappy thoughts squared away quick before William picked up on them and started asking questions. I had no intention of ending up twisting like Olivia, so I had to avoid an outright lie at all costs. That meant no questions.

Most of the vampires William had imported over the years had formed themselves into a handful of loosely aligned clans spread out all over the country. That's what this gathering was all about. Representatives of each clan would be present at the meeting.

Lucius represented New England and the eastern seaboard, Tobey had the Pacific Northwest, Iban had California and the rest of the West. Gerard, from his home base in Wisconsin, was here on behalf of the Midwest and Canada, and of course we had the South. The Southwest and lower Midwest were represented by the man who was just getting out of a taxi in the circular drive.

"Who's that?" Werm asked.

"That must be Travis Rubio," I told him.

"Don't you know him? I thought you met all the vampires who came through Savannah from Europe."