 
## **Contents**

Synopsis

Copyright

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Fire Song

City of Dragons

Book One

by Val St. Crowe

There's a serial killer stalking dragon shifters in Sea City, and pretty boy Detective Lachlan Flint wants my help tracking the killer down.

I'm a dragon shifter myself. Penny Caspian's the name. But I'm trying to lie low, not run around interrogating half the dragon community—or one dragon in particular. My ex.

Yeah, I left my destined mate. I know, I know. Dragons don't do that. Trust me. It's better this way.

This detective, though, he's not taking no for an answer. Did I mention he's pretty? But haunted and hiding something. There's some deep-down trouble in that boy's hollow eyes, and I got enough trouble of my own. Vampire motorcycle gangs. Wounded gargoyles. Locked dragon crypts.

Maybe it's because I saw that shifter's broken body, washed up on the beach. Maybe it's her dead, empty eyes. It's something, the hell if I know what, but I am going to find that killer. This is my city, and I look after my own.
FIRE SONG

© copyright 2016 by Val St.Crowe

http://vjchambers.com

Punk Rawk Books

Please do not copy or post this book in its entirety or in parts anywhere. You may, however, share the entire book with a friend by forwarding the entire file to them. (And I won't get mad.)

Fire Song

City of Dragons

Book One

Val St. Crowe

CHAPTER ONE

"Hey there," said a soft voice.

I looked up. I was standing on my own, staring out at the ocean, huddled under a blanket. There was a throng of people still on the boardwalk. We'd all been here for the Sea City March Wine Festival. The air was nippy, though earlier today, it had been bright and sunny, a herald of spring.

I wasn't sure how this blanket had gotten around my shoulders. Someone must have put it on me.

I was only concentrating on what I'd seen, every single detail of the body that had washed up on the beach.

I'd walked down to the surf, wanting a bit of fresh air, and there she had been.

She was pale and bloated, gleaming in the moonlight, her hair tangled around her throat. The wounds in her chest gaped open, dark and shiny, like the sea itself.

But the worst thing had been her eyes. Rheumy, the color of a robin's egg... no pupil left at all.

"You doing okay?" said the soft voice.

I turned to look in the direction of the voice. "Fine," I snapped, even though I was shaking under the blanket.

The soft voice belonged to a man in a suit. His tie was loosened. His pants were crusted in sand.

He had movie star good looks. A dimpled chin. A straight nose. His shoulders were broad and his hands looked large and powerful.

But he was gaunt. His cheekbones too prominent, his clothes hanging too loose. And his eyes...

His eyes were hollow.

There was something strange about the look of him, so attractive and yet so haunted.

I pulled my blanket tighter around myself, my brain working. He must be... "You the police detective? The one they said was going to want to talk to me?"

"That'd be me. Detective Lachlan Flint." He had a hint of a southern drawl, so different from the mid-Atlantic accent I usually heard around these parts. And a sharp departure from my own clipped northern speech. "I understand you saw the girl."

I nodded. "She had cuts..." I gestured to my own chest. "Long, deep gashes, like she'd been ripped apart."

"I saw the body, ma'am," he said reassuringly. "You don't have to go through that for me."

"Oh." I nodded. "Of course." I had been holding the image in my brain for nothing. Why had I thought he would need me to describe it? Why hadn't I just let it go?

Because I couldn't.

"...will go through any evidence they can find on her at the lab," he was saying.

I had missed the beginning of that sentence, but I just nodded.

"Won't be much, I'm afraid," he said. "Water tends to get rid of most anything useful."

I gazed at him, thinking again of how hollow his eyes seemed. Maybe he was simply tired. Or maybe he had seen too many bodies, too many robin's egg eyes, and it had left a permanent mark on him.

"Sorry about that," he said. "I don't need to go through that for you. I understand you can identify the victim?"

"Oh," I whispered. "I..." I shook my head. "No, I don't know who she is." I winced. What was wrong with me? Had I said her name aloud? I was going to blow everything. I couldn't have people knowing who and what I was.

"You called her..." He got his phone out of his suit jacket pocket and scrolled through something on the screen. "Elena. Several people heard you."

"No, I didn't," I said. "I've never seen her before."

He nodded slowly. "I see. So, can you explain to me how it is that other people heard you say that name?"

"Maybe someone else said it, and they thought it was me."

"You ran up the beach and you yelled..." He consulted his screen. "'It's Elena. It's her. She's dead.'" He raised his eyebrows.

Damn, had I really said that? Well, it was upsetting seeing a girl dead like that, especially one who was so young. I turned away from Lachlan Flint to look out at the ocean—dark water against a dark sky.

"Did you have something to do with this girl ending up in the water?" he said gently. "Maybe you didn't expect her to wash up so close to home."

"What?" I turned to him. "No!"

"All right, then." He waited.

I didn't say anything.

"You and I both know that you know that girl. Now, you tell me who she is and how it is you know her, and you might be headed home to your bed tonight. If not, I think you'll be coming to the station with me, and I'll have to keep pestering you until I get the truth out of you."

I sighed. I'd gotten myself into a heck of a mess, hadn't I? "She's Elena Watson," I said. "She's a dragon."

The surprise flitted across his face before he could school his expression. "A dragon? Well, there was some speculation that this was a magical creatures case, and that's why they called me. I'm the police detective that deals with that. But dragons, well, you don't see a lot of that."

"Not down in the south part of the city," I said.

"No," he said. Most of the dragons lived up north, right on the border of Delaware.

"I think she must have been out in town. The younger dragon set likes to do that. They like to mingle with the humans, pretend..." I licked my lips. "Maybe a slayer saw her, realized what she was."

"This isn't a slayer killing," said Flint. "Slayers kill dragons in dragon form. They kill for things they can sell. We don't find dragon bodies, because there's never anything left. Slayers cut them up and sell every last bit."

I felt bile rising in my throat. I knew this, of course, but hearing it put so graphically made me feel nauseous.

"How do you know what the younger dragon set likes to do?" said Flint. "How do you know this girl was a dragon?"

Now, that was something I couldn't tell him. But I needed to say something, or he would continue to be suspicious. I cast about for a lie. "I used to work there, for a dragon family at one of their beach houses in the north of Sea City. I didn't really know Elena, but I saw her a few times." As far as it went, not knowing her was the truth. I had never been close to Elena, but I knew every dragon in the community. There were less than fifty family lines. It was a small world.

"Worked?"

"Cleaning," I said.

He nodded. "Ah." He put his hands in his pockets and turned to look out over the beach. "The people who I talked to, they identified you as the owner of the Purple Dolphin Hotel and Suites." He consulted his phone again. "Miss Penelope Caspian?"

"People call me Penny," I said.

"So, you own a hotel now?"

"A small one," I said. We only had ten rooms and four suites.

"Tell, me, how does a person go from cleaning houses to owning a hotel?"

Damn it. I looked down at my feet.

"Maybe you know a lot about mingling with humans, Ms. Caspian," he said in a low voice, and there was something intimate about it.

I swallowed hard. He was good, wasn't he? That low, southern voice of his made me want to tell him everything. He made me feel as if confessing to him would ease all my burdens. I lifted my chin, defiant. "A person works hard."

He chuckled. "All right, then."

"Listen, detective, this has been a very traumatizing experience for me, and if you don't have any other questions for me..."

"I won't say anything," he said, his voice still low and intimate. "I'll keep it to myself what you are. But I wonder..." He sized me up. "We aren't equipped to deal with the influx of creatures into Sea City. The police department, myself included, is fairly clueless about all of that."

It was true that Sea City had only become the number one vacation spot for magical creatures over the past ten years or so. It had started with dragons buying up real estate in the north, right on the border of Delaware, and then everyone had started following suit. Vampires, gargoyles, and mages. Even drakes, slinking along in the shadows. There were more concentrated magical creatures here than probably anywhere else on the east coast.

"You, as a person who's cleaned houses for dragons, might have some useful knowledge." He winked at me, to let me know he didn't really believe I'd ever cleaned a house in my life. He was right about that, unfortunately. "I wonder if I had a question about something in a case, if I might get in touch with you."

I drew myself up. "This a deal, detective? Tit for tat? You keep your mouth shut if I help you out?"

"Just a simple request, Ms. Caspian."

"Well, then, Detective Flint, I'm afraid I'm a very busy woman. I doubt I'd have time."

He pursed his lips.

"Is there anything else you need from me?" I asked again.

"Not for tonight," he said. Somehow, it sounded like a threat.

I pulled the blanket tight around my shoulders and stalked off through the sand.

* * *

I couldn't sleep that night. I tried, rolling over and over in my bed, in my apartment, which sat just over the lobby of the Purple Dolphin Hotel. I lived where I worked, and everything that I had was now sunk into this hotel.

Maybe it had been stupid coming here.

I had thought Sea City would be the perfect hiding spot. I had thought that losing myself amongst the magical misfits in the south part of the city would be easy. I had thought that I'd blend in, and that no one would ever figure out who or what I was.

"You had to buy a hotel, didn't you?" I whispered at the ceiling.

I hadn't wanted to work for anyone else. I was proud that way. Call it my heritage, I suppose.

I had been raised in a wealthy family, and everyone I knew was wealthy, and no one that I knew was anyone's employee. Not in the world that I came from. So, I guessed that I had purchased the hotel because I didn't know how else to make my way in the world.

Now I had it, and I loved it here.

Or I had, until recently, when everything had been going to hell. It wasn't just the body on the beach.

I kept hearing rumors that Alastair was here.

I had come here specifically because he hated it here. He hated the ocean. Why had he changed his mind? And why was he here so early in the season? It wasn't even officially spring.

But the body was the reason that I couldn't sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that girl's dead, washed-out eyes.

She had been so young.

She wasn't even mated yet. And I knew that time in a dragon's life was heady and free. The young and unmated refused to take anything seriously. They drank and gambled and snorted cocaine and slept around and threw their family money where they could. Life for a girl like Elena Watson was a big party, and she had been intent on living it to the fullest.

I didn't know who had killed her.

Maybe it had nothing to do with her being a dragon.

But death stalked dragons. Well. Slayers stalked dragons. Drakes stalked dragons. Even vampires, though they could get their magic from the blood of drakes, came for us.

Perhaps this had been the work of a vampire. Unlike the other creatures, vampires could use dragon's blood even if it came from a dragon in human form. For anyone else to extract a dragon's magic, they needed a dragon in dragon form.

And that was something that Elena Watson would never feel again. She would never shift into her dragon form. She would never spread her wings, soar on a current, breathe fire—

Hell, she'd never breathed fire at all. A dragon couldn't achieve that feat until he or she had mated.

Finally, I stopped fighting it. It was after midnight when I crawled out of bed and made my way down to the shore. I walked over the sand barefoot. I threw my nightshirt over my head, the cold air against my naked skin.

I stepped into the surf.

The water was freezing, but I pushed past the waves, going out far enough that the water would submerge my body.

I dove under the waves, and the icy water enveloped me.

Here, in the water, I opened myself to the change. It had to be done here, under water, because the shift from one form to another was far too much. Being weightless helped. If I tried it out of water, my dragon form would destroy my human form coming out, and I would never be able to shift back. The human part of me would die.

I couldn't be sure, but I often thought that the dragons of legend, the ones who razed cities to the ground, breathing fire and killing everything in their path, were dragons who had lost their human form in such a way. They had been trapped as dragons, frustrated and angry. No wonder they had been so vicious.

Under the water, my wings unfurled.

I surfaced, the sea dripping off of my scales. I rose from the water, flapping my wings, gaining altitude.

I aimed for the moon, the air rushing around me, the freedom—the euphoria—of flight making everything feel okay again.

Nothing could touch me here. Not Alastair, not a dead girl whose life had never been lived, not all the death I'd experienced in my life.

I liked it here, soaring and swooping, going higher and higher.

I climbed above the clouds. I wanted to fly away from all my troubles.

But wasn't that what I'd tried to do when I'd come here? Hadn't I thought that being far away from the life I used to live would mean I'd be free? And here I was. No matter how far I flew, how far I ran, trouble found me anyway.

Maybe it was a curse.

But I was alive. I wasn't gone, like Elena Watson, cut up and washed up, dead and destroyed.

I thought of Elena's family, getting the news. Like most dragon couples, her parents had only managed to produce one offspring. It wasn't for lack of trying, of course, but pregnancy was difficult for dragons to achieve. Elena was the only hope of carrying on their line. She was their only precious little girl. They had lavished all their love on her. She had been the center of their universe. Now, she was gone.

The agony they must be feeling.

Yes, at least I was alive.

Even if I felt as if I had lost the center of my own universe a long time ago.

Sometimes, I wasn't even sure how it was that I got up and kept moving.

Maybe it was only for this. The wind in my wings, the moonlight reflecting on the ocean beneath me. Night flight. It was joy, even when I couldn't find anything else to be glad about.

CHAPTER TWO

I walked back up the beach after the flight, pulling my nightshirt on over my wet, naked body. I was now back in human form.

The dawn was starting to streak through the sky. Soon, the sun would rise over the water, staining everything pink and orange. But for now it was only a bone-colored sky on a gray horizon.

There was someone in the lobby of my hotel.

I took off at a run, which wasn't an easy thing to do in the sand. It slowed me down, and I missed the ease of flight, nothing in my way but the breeze.

I hurried up the set of wooden steps that led to the patio of the hotel.

I ran past tables topped with closed umbrellas, past the empty pool, which wouldn't be filled until at least May.

I threw open the door to the lobby.

The vampires in there all turned to look at me.

They were in the middle of trashing the place, yanking things off shelves, emptying drawers, overturning a big rack of brochures by the door.

"Get out," I growled. "I told you never to come back here."

"You pay and you never see us again," said one of the vampires. They were all wearing leather jackets with skulls on the back, emblazoned with the name of their gang, The Lost Breed.

The vampire motorcycle gang ran this part of the beach. They demanded that every business owner pay them off each month. They called themselves a security team. Said they'd protect us from robbers and vandals. But the only robbers and vandals were the gang themselves.

The deal really worked out to this: pay us, and we'll stop trashing your place of business twice a month.

I wasn't the kind of person who took well to being pushed around.

Not anymore.

The vampires were bullies.

"Bite me," I said, grinning widely at them.

One of them had a baseball bat slung over his shoulder. He swung it down to his feet and leaned on it. "Listen, lady, we're here under orders. You know how this works. Just pay us."

"Never," I said.

He picked up the bat. He swung into the window in the front door.

Glass shattered with a crash.

"Your funeral," he said, hauling back to swing again.

I lifted my hands. Before, I hadn't resorted to this, because I hadn't wanted anyone to know what I was. But now it hardly seemed to matter. And fresh from a flight over the ocean, I was brimming with magic. I felt it crackling from my core, racing down my arms, over my fingertips.

I pointed, and the vamp and the baseball bat both lifted off the ground.

I separated the bat from the vampire, sent it hurtling to the ground, where it landed with a loud metal clank.

The vampire let out a hoarse cry. He was scared, even though vampires could do this kind of magic too—well, they could if they'd had a nice meal of dragon blood.

But most vampires seemed to just drink blood to survive, and that meant from animals. They got pints of it at their local butcher shop, and all that blood did for them was keep them alive, help them heal quickly, keep them strong.

These vampires weren't going to be a problem.

"Hank?" said one of the other vamps. All of them had stopped whatever destruction they were in the middle of to stare at their floating friend.

I slammed Hank into the wall, pinned him there like a bug on a card.

"Hank, what are you doing up there?" said one of the other vamps.

"I'm not doing it," said Hank, gaping at me. "She is."

I pointed at another vampire, one who hadn't spoken. He lifted from the ground as well.

He shrieked. "Hey, lady, let me down."

"What is she? Some kind of mage?" said another one.

"She's not doing a spell," said Hank. "Her lips ain't moving."

"Talisman," said another. "I'll find it. I'll get it off her."

I nodded at him. He fell flat on the ground. He struggled, but I used my magic to keep him down.

"I can't move!" he said, his voice full of fear.

Abruptly, I dropped Hank.

He crashed down to the ground and landed with a crunch.

Ooh. I thought his leg was broken.

He howled.

"Get him out of here," I said. "Get him out of here and don't come back or I will do much worse than this to all of you."

I set down the other vampire. I let the third guy get up.

They gathered up Hank and scampered out of the lobby right quick.

I watched them go.

Then I stared at the broken glass that littered the floor and felt a sob welling up in my throat. The lobby was trashed. I had customers checking in today. How was I supposed to do that when this place had been destroyed?

"Thought you were keeping a low profile, Penny," said the voice of my best friend Felicity Richardson.

I turned to see her in the doorway to the lobby. "Hey." I felt exhausted.

"I saw you flying around out there. Other people probably saw too."

"There are dragons flying around all the time," I said. "It's not a big deal."

"Not down here in the south part of the city," she said. She was right. Dragons tended to stay in the north. Safer there, amongst their own.

I walked over to her, gingerly stepping around the broken glass. My feet were bare. "I had a bad night. I saw a dead body."

"I heard about that on the news," she said. "When I was coming home, it was on the radio in my car. Some girl's body washed up? She was a dragon?"

I nodded.

"They said she was a minor, so they didn't release the name."

"Elena Watson," I said.

"Oh, she's so young," said Felicity.

"I know."

My best friend Felicity was a drake, but she wasn't like all the other drakes. She had fallen in with a bad crowd in college and gotten dosed with what she thought was an innocent brownie. Turns out the thing was laced with dragon flesh. When the high came on, she was terrified. She hadn't been expecting it. She got in her car and tried to drive. Wrapped her car around a tree. When she woke up, she looked the way she does now.

Felicity had rows of green-blue scales that started around her ears. She was lucky to be one of the drakes whose face had remained mostly human, and she still had human-looking hands, not claws. But her feet were reptilian, and the scales ran from the top of her head all the way down over her back and legs.

Drakes were dragon-human hybrids. They got that way by eating dragon meat and dying with it still in their system.

Thing was, after the transformation, most of them were crazy for more. They were addicted to dragon and most of them got themselves killed trying to get more.

Felicity kept her lust for flesh under control by eating a lot of meat, preferably rare and bloody. She'd never attempted to hurt me, not even once.

Thing was, drakes didn't often get second chances. Vampires could still pass for human. No one knew what had happened to them. But drakes were marked as monsters, and more often than not, they were. They were controlled by their addiction.

Felicity was different, though.

"Was," said Felicity. "She was so young." Her voice was quiet.

"I blew my cover," I said. "I said Elena's name. I identified her. I tried to lie to the police detective who questioned me about it, tell him that I only knew her because I used to clean houses for dragons—"

"Hey, that's my life story," said Felicity.

"Well, I needed to think of something believable," I said. That was how Felicity and I had met. She used to clean the beach house for my family when we came to Sea City. Before my parents were killed by a slayer. Before Felicity got turned into a drake. Before I ran away from everything that I ever knew.

"He didn't buy it?" Felicity asked.

I shook my head. "Not really. He knows. He didn't come right out and say it, but he knows I'm a dragon."

"So, that's it? One detective figures out your secret and you're flying around and using telekinetic magic on vampires?"

There were three kinds of magic and all three came from dragons. Telekinesis, pyrokinesis, and compulsion. Any magic that any other half-breed or mage possessed, they got from taking parts of dragons and using them to create magic. Since I was a dragon, I could do all of it on my own. But I usually didn't.

"Look," I said. "They thought I had a talisman. They thought I was a mage. Anyway, it's not important. It's only a matter of time before Alastair finds me." I pushed past Felicity and into the hallway. I started up the steps to my apartment.

She followed me. She lived up here with me too. We'd been attached at the hip for a long time. Even when she was the cleaning girl, I used to follow her around and ask her questions about what it was like to be outside of dragon culture. Back then, humans had seemed exotic to me, and I'd been curious.

I'd cultivated the friendship because I was being a rebellious kid, but that didn't mean that it hadn't become more than that. Especially after Felicity had become a drake. She'd had no one to turn to, but she'd come to me. And I'd protected her ever since.

We were devoted to each other. Always would be.

"You don't even know for sure that he's in town," she said as we emerged in our living room. She threw herself down on a couch. "Argh. I'm starving."

"We've heard rumors," I said.

"But he hates the ocean," she said.

"Apparently not anymore," I said. "You want me to try to cook something?" I veered into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.

It was bare, as usual.

We didn't eat much here. We had most of our meals at the adjoining restaurant, the Pink Flamingo Cafe. Our friend Ophelia Diaz owned it. We'd worked out a deal with her to offer a continental breakfast for our hotel patrons in her back room. More often than not, that was where Felicity and I ate breakfast too.

"No, that's okay," she called. "Don't worry about it. The Flamingo will be open in twenty minutes."

I came back into the living room. "I can cook, you know. I took that class in the fall. I'm good at it."

She smiled. "I know you are."

I sat down opposite her. "You're patronizing me."

"No, I'm not," she said.

I eyed her. It wasn't worth fighting over, and besides, I was noticing she was still in last night's clothes. "Where have you been all night?"

Her face broke out into a wide grin. "I am officially part of a couple!"

My lips parted. "You... you are?"

"Oh, Penny, don't be like that."

"I'm not being like anything." I got up and began fluffing pillows on the couch. For some reason, I didn't want to look at her. "So, you have a boyfriend. Congratulations." What kind of boyfriend could she have? What man was attracted to drakes? Sure, Felicity was still lovely in her own adorable way, but most people would see her as a monster. I didn't want her to get hurt. I didn't want her to get used.

"You sound so completely sincere."

"I am sincere." I fluffed another pillow.

"Stop doing that and look at me."

I paused. Sighed. Sat back down and faced her. "You never mentioned that you were dating."

"I don't bring this stuff up to you."

"Why not? We're best friends. We share everything."

"It's just because of how you are."

"How I am?"

"About men, you know?"

"How am I about men?"

"Well, you're wary."

"Wary?"

"Understandably," she said, smiling. "Of course you're wary."

I studied my fingernails.

"I want you to meet him," Felicity said. "Will you have dinner with us?"

"Sure," I said. "I'm sure he's great." I forced myself to smile. When I met that guy, I was going to make sure that he never hurt my friend. If he did, he'd have me to contend with.

CHAPTER THREE

"So, I said to him, I said, 'What have you got against gargoyles?'" said Connor Beckett, leaning on the counter in the lobby.

"Do you think it looks okay in here?" I said, leaning on a broom. I'd been sweeping up all day, it felt like. I'd had my staff checking people in by walking them directly from their cars to their rooms, avoiding the lobby entirely.

But now it was night, and I wasn't going to ask the people I employed to go roaming around after dark in the parking lot, asking anyone who parked if they were checking in.

"He says, 'It's not about the fact you're a gargoyle, it's about the fact I'm straight,'" Connor said.

"I mean, there's no window, but it's the beach," I said. "So, who needs windows at the beach?" I stuck my arm through the place where the window should be.

"But you tell me," said Connor. "Anything that I said, did it sound like I was coming onto him?"

"Someone will come and fix the window in the morning. And if anyone says anything, say it was an accident." I turned to look at Connor.

He furrowed his brow. "You aren't even listening to me." Connor was six feet four inches tall. He was moving and talking now, but his skin still had the grayish hue of stone. He sported small wings at his back. He was a gargoyle, which meant that he could only work at night, on account of the fact that he turned to stone all day and everything.

"I'm listening," I said. "Guy sounds like a homophobe."

"Exactly," he said. "Thank you." Connor was a gay gargoyle. He'd come out to his family and been disowned. They weren't very open to alternative lifestyles. Anyway, now he lived at the hotel here with me and Felicity. When he'd told me what happened, I hadn't had it in me to let him live on the street. "That's what I said. But he didn't like that very much."

"You called him a homophobe to his face?"

"I'm just sick of these fugly men getting all hot under the collar because I happen to be polite to people. I would never have hit on him, not in a zillion years. And I could tell he was straight."

I waited. Maybe there was a point to this story?

Connor folded his arms over his chest. "Anyway. Just saying."

"So, you're okay in here? Even without the window? Is it too cold for you?"

"Girl, please. I'm a gargoyle."

"Right," I said. I started back out of the lobby. "Well, if you need anything, call me." I paused in the doorway. "So, you don't feel cold?"

"I feel it," he said. "Just doesn't bother me."

"Interesting." I thought about that for a second. "Because you're made of stone."

"Yeah, I guess so," he said, shrugging.

I guessed this was why I had to insist on keeping Connor clothed. If it were up to him, he'd run around in a pair of cut-off jean shorts and nothing else. When he was working, though, he had to be dressed.

"You leaving me here alone?" he said.

"I've got some things to work on," I said.

Connor snatched the remote control up off the counter and switched on a television set that hung over the door. Miraculously, the vampires hadn't gotten to it last night. However, it was the third TV I'd purchased. Vamps had smashed its predecessors. Felicity said I was an idiot for continuing to put it back up in the lobby. She might have been right. It was the principle of the thing, though. If I didn't put the TV back up, the vamps won.

"... another body washed up on the shore late this afternoon, similar to the first body that was found last night," said the TV. "This may be the work of a serial killer."

I whirled to face the screen.

A newswoman was standing out on the dark beach. She was smiling. "Police are hesitant to say if there is any connection to the previous body, but the victim was another young female, just like the body found last night. Back to you, Jim."

I wanted to wipe her smile off her face.

But Jim was already back on the screen, babbling on about the weather over the weekend.

Another girl. Was she also a dragon, like Elena? Was this a pattern? Was someone out there targeting young, dragon girls?

* * *

"Oh, you're here to see Flint?" said the woman at the desk in the police department. "You his sister or something?"

"No," I said. "It's about the dead girls. The ones that have been washing up from the ocean?"

"Oh." The woman nodded. She had red hair, which was actually more a shade of mahogany. An obvious dye job. "Shoulda figured. He ain't got any family. I knew right off you weren't his girlfriend or nothing. No way could a woman put up with that man. Easy on the eyes, sure, but once he opens his mouth, you wish he wouldn't."

"Really," I said. This was bizarre. "Can I see him, please?"

"I'll call him. Let him know you're here. What did you say your name was?"

"Penny Caspian," I said.

She picked up her phone, hit some buttons.

I waited and listened as she relayed the information into the phone's receiver. Then she hung up. "You can go on back. Just through that door."

"Thanks," I said, and went through the door.

I entered a big room that was filled with a bunch of desks. There was one long middle row, all facing forward, almost like in a classroom, except the desks were all the size of teachers' desks and covered in computers and knick knacks and filled with men and women in uniforms and suits. The other desks flanked the walls, but they faced inward. There were aisles between the middle row and the inward facing desks.

I saw Detective Flint right away. He was wading through the left-hand aisle toward me. Then he spotted me. He stopped. Motioned me over.

I crossed the distance between us.

"Ms. Caspian," he said. "I was under the impression you were a very busy woman."

"Was she a dragon? The other body?"

He gestured to the back corner of the room, where a bare-looking desk sat all by itself. "You want to join me at my desk? We can have a little chat if you'd like."

Sure, fine. Whatever. I strode over to the desk and sat down at the seat beside it.

He sat down across from me. He leaned forward, gazing at me intently. "Why are you here?"

"I just... I need to know. If the other body that was found, if it was a dragon girl as well."

"Why?"

"I do, that's all."

He leaned back in his chair. "I can't quite get a handle on you, Ms. Caspian." He turned back to his desk. "Right now, I'd say you're my top suspect."

"What?" I got to my feet. "How could you say that?"

He shrugged. "Well, you're not a perfect match. You're a woman, and near as I know, women don't do crimes like this. Women kill, sure, but it's not for sexual dominance. Men have the market cornered on that. And everything about these murders seems to point to the idea that the murderer is doing it for pleasure, for kicks."

"What if it's a vampire?" I sat back down again. "Vampires can get magic from dragon blood even if they drink it while the dragon is in human form."

"That so?" He cocked his head to one side. "See, these are the kinds of things that it might be valuable for the department to know. You're a creature expert—"

"I'm not an expert."

"You don't want to help us, though. But you're driven to be part of the investigation somehow. Perhaps because you're involved in some way."

"Actually, I came back because I changed my mind," I said. "I do want to help. If there's something I can do. If she was a dragon, I mean. If it's the kind of case that I can even help with..." I was getting quieter with every string of words, as if I was losing faith in what I was saying. I furrowed my brow. "If I'm a suspect, why would you want my help?"

He made a tent with his forefingers and rested them against his chin. "Did you ever read The Scarlet Letter?"

"Maybe. In high school, I think." I was thrown by this strange shift in subject.

"In the book, Arthur Dimmesdale, he's the preacher who impregnated the girl, right?"

I nodded.

"Well, she's ostracized from society, forced to wear the letter on her chest. You remembering this?"

"I guess so, but I don't understand why you're bringing it up."

"Do you remember the end, where he pulls aside his shirt and he's got his own big A on his flesh?"

"Um..." I was thoroughly confused.

Flint tapped his tented fingers against his chin. "Some people think he cut it into his own skin, but those people aren't reading the book right. See, what Nathaniel Hawthorne was trying to say in that book was that guilt wants out. You do something wrong, and it starts to fester in you, and it strains and it pushes and it takes whatever opportunity it can to show itself. The more you push it down, the more it finds a way. So, if you really have been out murdering people, Ms. Caspian, there's something inside you, some scarlet letter that's trying to push its way out, and it's what's bringing you to me right now. I'd be a bad detective if I didn't allow you to do whatever you need to do in order to confess to me, because that's what you want deep down."

I drew back. "I'm not... I would never hurt those girls."

He smiled. "No?"

"I'm not that kind of person."

"You're hiding something."

"You already know what I'm hiding." I lowered my voice, leaned closer to him. "I'm a dragon, and I don't want anyone to know that."

"Sure," he said. "But why don't you want anyone to know?"

I sighed, frustrated.

"You're hiding something." He stretched and cupped the back of his head with both hands, looking relaxed. "So, anyway, you want to help the investigation now?"

"I don't know if I do, not if you think I'm a murderer."

"If you aren't a murderer, why are you here now?"

I felt exasperated. "Because I'm afraid this might be a pattern. That more girls are going to die, and if there is something that I can do, and I don't do it, I'll feel guilty about that my whole life." I glared at him. "Guilt wants out," I said, mimicking him.

He chuckled again. "All right. That's fine, then, Ms. Caspian. Truth is, we don't know if the other body is a dragon or not. We can't identify her. You want to look at a picture?"

I gulped. A picture of another dead body, when Elena's blank eyes were already making it difficult for me to sleep? "Does she look as bad as Elena?"

He reached into a folder on his desk and slapped an eight by ten glossy down in front of me.

The first thing I saw were the gaping wounds on her chest and I turned away, feeling sick.

"Do you know who she is?"

I turned back slowly. "You could have warned me you were going to do that," I said in a tight voice.

"Wanted your honest reaction."

"I'm not a killer."

"Sure, sure. You know who she is or not?"

I blinked, trying to look past the wounds to see the girl's face. At first, she didn't look like anyone recognizable. She was in worse shape than Elena had been, and her features had been ravaged by water. "What happened to her?" I murmured.

"She's been in the water longer," he said in a husky voice. "This one was probably dumped before the first one. She's our first victim. Elena was the second."

I bit down on my lip. "I can't... I can't be sure. But maybe if you pull up a picture on your computer. Look at her Facebook account?"

"Whose?"

"Uh... Sophia Ward. She was older than Elena, but unmated as far as I know, and so she might have been wandering downtown, going to bars on the boardwalk."

"What's the mating thing got to do with it?" said Flint. "Dragons mate for life, I know that much. And they never cheat on their partners."

"That's not true," I said.

"Which one?"

"Either," I said. "I mean, in theory, it shouldn't happen, but it does. And yes, dragons mate differently than humans. We... have one mate, a destined mate, a person we're meant to be with for the rest of our lives, and when we see that mate, then..." I was starting to sweat. I shook myself. "That's not important. What's important is that once dragons are mated, we settle down. Before mating, it's open season—wild parties, drinking, staying up all night, that kind of thing."

"Doesn't sound that much different than humans, honestly," he said, turning to his computer. "Sophia Ward, you said?"

"It's different," I said. "When you're mated as a dragon, it's..." The sweat was back.

He turned the computer screen toward me, and there was a picture of Sophia. She looked about the way I remembered. She had big, bright eyes and freckles. She was wearing a set of dangling ruby earrings in the shape of flames. They were one of a kind. I recognized the work of the artist. I remembered that Alastair had once given me a bracelet crafted with stones like that.

"The hair color is right," said Flint. "And it could be her." He picked up the photograph and held it up against the computer screen. "I don't want to give ultimate confirmation just from this, but maybe I'll bring in her family."

I shuddered.

He turned to look at me. "I was planning on going to talk to Elena's family today anyway. Would you like to tag along? Since you said you wanted to help?"

"Go there?" I got out of the chair. "I can't go there. I can't be around the dragons. They can't know I'm here."

He raised his eyebrows.

I shook my head. And then I turned and fled from the room. What the hell had I been thinking?

CHAPTER FOUR

I put my hands on my hips, surveying the new window. "It looks good, but I feel like that caulking there is a little—"

"Oh, no, we'll fix that," said Jim, the guy who always did my windows. "If you think it's worth it, that is. This is the third time I've replaced this window."

I gritted my teeth. "It's not going to happen again."

"That's what you said last time."

"Fix the caulking," I said, sighing.

"Sure thing," he said.

I rubbed my temples and went out onto the front sidewalk. It was growing dark and Connor would be waking up soon to take over the front desk. I was filling in right now because the girl who usually did evenings had called in with the flu.

I was happy to have something to fill my day with, actually. Truthfully, owning a hotel was a strange profession. I had a lot of free time, but I also had bursts of stressful activity, during which I was pulled in several directions at once. Most of the time, though, I had to admit I was bored.

I figured I had a bit of time before the vampires came back. They usually gave me a little time in between attacks. I intended to keep my word, however. I wasn't going to allow that window to get smashed again. Using magic against them had been empowering. I wasn't going to get walked all over anymore. I was going to find a way to stop them.

As I considered my options for fighting back, a Ford Taurus pulled up in front of the hotel, and Detective Flint got out. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket, and his shirt was untucked. It blew against his chest in the breeze.

Maybe he wasn't quite as gaunt as I had thought. I could see his wiry muscle, the outline of him as he approached me. He was wearing sunglasses. He took them off.

I drew in breath and let it out. Was I attracted to the detective? Was that what this was? I wasn't sure what regular, run-of-the-mill attraction even felt like. I wasn't sure if I was even capable of it. I put my hands in my pockets. "What are you doing here?"

He smiled. "Just couldn't handle it. You intrigue me." He pointed at me with his sunglasses. "So, I have to admit, I looked into you. Funny thing, Ms. Caspian. If you were really trying to hide, why use your real name?"

"Are you kidding? Like it's so simple to just create a life under an assumed name. How would I get a driver's license? How would I buy a hotel without using my bank?"

He considered. "Well, anyway, you weren't hard to track down."

"You say that, but it's because you started by finding me, and then looked for who I was. I guarantee that it wouldn't have been as easy the other way around."

"Perhaps that's so. There's not much information about you here in Sea City, I'll admit. But just oodles of it about you in Connecticut. Rich heir to the Caspian dragon dynasty. Inherited young due to the passing of your parents. I'm sorry for your loss, incidentally."

I pressed my lips into a firm line.

"Then you married Alastair Cooper, another wealthy dragon heir. The two of you were a power couple. Until you disappeared."

"Am I still a suspect? Is this some attempt to shake the truth out of me? What did you find that would make you think that I was a murderer?"

"I didn't necessarily find anything like that." He scratched the back of his neck. "I don't get it, though. You left your husband. That never happens, despite what you said earlier in my office today. Dragon marriages do not end."

I was getting sweaty again. I wanted to run away from him.

"Did he cheat on you?"

I whipped my head up in surprise. "What?"

"Well, earlier, when you were in my office, and I said the thing about infidelity—"

"No." I shook my head. "Or, I don't know. Maybe. It's the kind of thing he would have done."

"Why'd you leave?"

I glared at the detective. "He hit me, okay? He beat me within an inch of my life on multiple occasions. I was bonded to him, he was my one true mate, and I never loved anyone the way I loved him, the way I still..." I flinched. "If you don't have a reason to think I'm a murderer, then why are you here?"

He drew his brows together. "Okay."

"That's it? Okay?" I was aghast. He'd gotten me to admit it all, the truth of my life, that everything that I had ever believed about my kind was a lie. I'd been brought up to believe that my mate was my destiny, and that when I found him, he would complete me. He was all I was ever going to need.

And when I did find him, it was true that the bond between us was undeniable. I was consumed by my love for Alastair Cooper.

But yet, that hadn't been enough. That hadn't stopped him from hurting me. Nothing had.

Destined for a man like Alastair?

Why?

For a long time, I'd thought I deserved punishment for some reason. I was meant to be with this man, so I must be meant for beatings.

Finding the strength to leave him, when I was so strongly bonded to him, had been the hardest thing that I had ever done.

"What do you want me to say?" said Flint.

"Why are you here?" I repeated.

"I want a consultant on this case," he said. "I don't understand dragon culture, and you do. I think I need to know what you know."

"You don't suspect me?"

"No." He shrugged. "To be honest, I don't think I ever did. Like I said, you don't fit the profile of someone who would kill for pleasure." He began fiddling with his sunglasses, unfolding and folding the arms. "Listen, Ms. Caspian, catching killers is what I do. It's all I do. When I go to sleep tonight, what I'm going to be thinking about is the face of Elena Watson's mother when I told her the news that her little girl was gone. That disbelieving shock that seized her whole body, made her go stiff and still. I can't do anything about her loss. But the worst thing about loss like that is that it seems like the sun shouldn't keep circling the earth in the face of it. And it does. The world just keeps going on as if nothing had changed. Nature doesn't care. Most people don't care. It doesn't affect them. But it affects me. That's what I do. I'm affected, and I don't stop being affected until I find whoever did it. It's what I do." He tucked his sunglasses into the breast pocket of his shirt. "So, if you can help me, I want your help."

"I came to you because I wanted to help," I said. "But I can't go with you to the north side."

"No, I understand that," he said. "I'll do that on my own. I'd just like to ask you information about dragons. And about Alastair Cooper."

"Why?" I said.

"Well, turns out that someone saw Sophia Ward with him several weeks ago. Last time anyone's seen her, near I can tell."

I swallowed.

"You say he was violent, that he was abusive? Well, that kind of man does fit the profile of someone who might do this."

I couldn't breathe. The thought of Alastair killing a girl? Yeah, I could picture it. I remembered the way he would rage, as if he'd lost all control of himself. And if he was guilty, then Flint would lock Alastair up, and I'd never have to worry about him ever again. I turned away from the detective, emotion rising in me like a tidal wave.

"Hey, Penny?" said a voice.

I looked up.

Connor was in the doorway of the lobby. "Window looks good."

"Hi, Connor," I said in a strained voice. "I'm a little busy at the moment."

"Just saying hi," said Connor. He looked the detective over. "Hi to you, too." He waggled his eyebrows.

"Hello," said Flint.

Connor came outside, crossing to us, offering his hand. "I'm Connor. I work here."

Flint shook his hand. "Good to meet you. I'm flattered, really, but I don't exactly have time in my life for anything... extracurricular, and I have to admit I've never been attracted to men."

Connor yanked his hand back. "I was only saying hello." He turned to look at me. "Did it seem like I was hitting on him?"

"Um..." I shifted on my feet.

Connor huffed. "You know what? Forget it." He glared at Flint. "I was being friendly, that's all."

"Oh, my mistake," said Flint, shrugging. "I get unwanted attention a lot."

It was my turn to glare at Flint. "You're a little full of yourself, aren't you?"

He shrugged again. "I've looked like this my whole life, Ms. Caspian. It's helpful sometimes. People tend to be friendlier to attractive people. And in my line of work, that's not a bad thing. But frankly, I'd rather blend in."

I gave him a look of disgust.

Flint put his sunglasses back on. Damned if it didn't make him look sexy.

Connor squared his shoulders. "I'm going back to work."

"You do that," I said.

Flint watched him go. "You know about gargoyles too?"

"A little bit," I said.

"You busy this evening?"

* * *

"Listen," said Flint, who was surrounded by a gaggle of female gargoyles. "This would really be easier if we could talk to Mr. Ross alone?"

Brody Ross was behind all of his female relatives, hidden completely from sight.

We hadn't gotten one look at him since arriving at Brody's home. He was a suspect, according to Flint, and we were there to interview him. But thus far, we weren't getting anywhere near him.

"I don't think so," said Brody's mother. "We know his rights, and we are not going to let anyone near him without a warrant."

"Actually, that would only be if I'd uncovered enough evidence for an arrest," said Flint. "If I could talk to him now, I might be able to cross him off my list entirely."

"No," said Brody's mother.

Brody's sisters all stood in a row, gray arms crossed over their chests.

"Hiding behind the women?" said Flint. "Is that really what you want to do, Ross?"

I shook my head at Flint. That was a very bad idea. I pushed in front of him. "Don't listen to the detective," I said. "He's human, and he doesn't understand."

"We would not let Brody out to talk to you," said his mother. "What he wants to do makes no difference. We are his family. We know best."

"Of course you do," I said. "Listen, we wouldn't dream of asking you to leave him alone. Of course, you must be here to protect him. That's only proper."

Flint raised his eyebrows.

"But if we could ask him just a few questions?" I said.

"You ask the questions," said the mother. "We will decide if he can answer them."

"Okay," I said. "That's fair."

"It is?" said Flint. But he shrugged. "All right."

"We are waiting," said his mother.

"Can we at least see him?" said Flint.

"It's best not to push," I told him.

He shrugged again. He seemed to do that a lot. "All right, then. Mr. Ross, I understand that you were fairly angry about the new development that went up in the north side of the city. You spearheaded several protests to stop the dragons from building their summer homes on that land. Said it was the site of your ancestral home."

"Oh, that can't be true," said Brody's mother. "That's far too dangerous. Of course, it is terrible that those dragons built their houses there. Our family used to care for a lighthouse there for the mage family we served."

Gargoyles had been created by mages, using dragon sacrifice, the most powerful of magics, to be as strong as dragons and protect them from retaliation. It was only sixty years ago that gargoyles had been emancipated from mages and given status as citizens. Since they were tied by magic to the houses they inhabited, they had been a largely ignored magical race for centuries.

"Tell them you wouldn't do such a thing, Brody," said one of his sisters.

"Um..." came a voice. "I did start the protests. Fat lot of good it did, though."

"So, you were angry at the dragons," said Flint. "Weren't you?"

"Yeah," said Brody.

"Did I say you could answer that question?" said Brody's mother sharply.

"Sorry, Mom."

"Angry enough to kill?" said Flint.

"What?" said Brody's mother, horrified.

"What?" said Brody. He pushed between two of his sisters. "I never hurt anyone."

"Dragon girls keep washing up on the beach," said Flint. "Dragon girls who live in that housing development."

"Hey, I have no idea who lives in the housing development," said Brody.

"Brody!" admonished his mother. "You keep your mouth shut. You know how these police will twist your words."

"Do you happen to know where you were on February twelfth?" said Flint. "Might not be significant, but it's the last day that anyone saw Sophia Ward alive."

"I have no idea," said Brody. "What day of the week was that?"

"A Friday."

"He was probably with Gina," said one of Brody's sisters. "They're together a lot these days."

"Oh, if he is not with us, and not at work, he is with Gina," said Brody's mother.

"Gina who?" said Flint.

"You're not going to talk to her, are you?" said Brody. "Leave Gina out of this."

CHAPTER FIVE

We were on our way to talk to Gina, who was another gargoyle who lived across town.

As we drove, I explained gargoyle culture to Flint. "They have a matriarchal society," I said. "The family group is organized around the mother, the grandmother. It's not until the oldest female's death that the family begins to branch off into smaller units."

"Okay, I get that," he said, gripping the steering wheel as we sped down Atlantic Avenue, the main strip of highway that went up and down the coast. On one side of us, twenty-story hotels blocked out the ocean. On the other side, restaurants and strip malls lit the night. "What I don't get is why they wouldn't let him talk."

"They think men live in a state of perpetual childhood," I said. "They don't trust men to own property or to have any say over major decisions. Those are all taken care of by the matriarch."

"So, men are just second-class citizens?"

"Well..." I shrugged. "I'm sure there are human men who wouldn't complain about living a gargoyle lifestyle. The men basically have no responsibilities besides impregnating females. They can have sex with whoever they want with no expectations of commitment, because they don't ever leave their mother's houses. Gargoyles don't pair bond like us. Women raise their babies in the matriarch's home, along with their brothers. All the children stay with their mothers until she dies."

"Like orca whales," said Flint in a thoughtful voice.

"Is it?" I said.

He nodded. "And I don't think it would work for human men."

"Why do you say that?" I said.

"Because that isn't how men are wired," he said. "Men do everything that they do in order to provide for these so-called responsibilities you think we want to flee from. Life isn't worth living to a man if he doesn't have a family."

"Do you have a family?"

His jaw twitched. "It's just basic psychology."

"Maybe gargoyles are different."

"The gargoyle who works for you? He's gay, right? How's that work?"

"It doesn't. If he's not mating with women, he's basically useless to the society. A burden. His grandmother kicked him out. He lives with me now."

"You took him in?"

"I couldn't let him live on the street."

He didn't say anything for several minutes. When he did, he'd changed the subject. "You could have told me this gargoyle stuff before we went in to interrogate that guy."

"You didn't ask."

"Didn't know I should," he said. "There anything I should know before we talk to the girlfriend?"

"She's not his girlfriend," I said. "There's no expectation of monogamy in gargoyle culture."

"Right," he said. "No one cares who the baby's father is, so there's no reason for it."

"That's not the only reason for monogamy," I said.

"No, I realize that. Pairing off is good for very helpless offspring. That's the reason men are wired to want to take care of their responsibilities. Better for the species survival."

"I never thought about that," I said.

There was a red light. He pulled the car to a stop and turned to me. "You're not going to argue with me about that, tell me I'm being unromantic, I don't suppose. After your history, you no longer believe in romance."

I looked out the window. There was a sliver of sea and sky visible between two hulking, shadowy hotels. "It's not like that for dragons. It's not romance."

"So, what is it?" he said.

"Biology," I said. "It's very difficult for dragons to conceive and carry full term, so in order to ensure that, we evolved to be very, very attached to our mates."

"But does that make sense?" he said. "Wouldn't having multiple partners like the gargoyles make the chances of conception better?"

"Evolution doesn't always make sense. It keeps on because it works, not because it's the best way to do things. It just has to be serviceable until a better mutation happens along."

The light turned green. The car started to move again.

I sighed. "I guess you're right. I used to believe in destiny, that there was something magic and pure about finding one's mate. But now I think..." I turned back to look at him, abruptly shifting topics. "I don't understand how the police department in this city could be so clueless about magical creatures. Sea City is like the magic capital of the east coast."

"Magic scares humans," he said. "They don't understand it. It frightens them. They'd rather not waste a lot of time thinking about what frightens them, so they try to sweep it under the rug and ignore it."

"It doesn't scare you?"

"Sure it does. But I've got murders to solve, and I feel blind half the time trying to navigate here. The creatures here, I don't understand them. You know, we could pay you as a consultant. Not a lot of money, but something."

"I don't need money."

"Right. You bought a hotel with cash." He pulled the car into a turning lane and put the blinker on.

We had arrived at where Gina worked.

* * *

Gina the gargoyle was in a maid's uniform, which figured. She wouldn't be doing a service job that put her out and about in front of paying customers. She might scare them off.

Gargoyles weren't in as bad a position as drakes that way. They were much nicer to look at, for one thing. Most of them were beautiful, like stone angels with chiseled features and figures. But they were still... odd. That meant that they were still shunted out of sight for the most part.

She told us that she only had a few minutes or she'd get behind. She had a lot of cleaning to do that night.

"This shouldn't take too long," said Flint. "We're here about Brody Ross."

"Brody?" she said. "Did he do something wrong? Because I was always telling him that those protests of his were a bad idea. Just so dangerous, you know? Everyone hates dragons and all, but there's nothing we can do about it."

"Would you say he hates dragons?" said Flint.

"Everyone hates dragons," she repeated.

I shifted on my feet. Everyone?

"Anyway, I haven't seen him in months," she continued. "We hooked up a few times, but then he stopped coming around."

"Months?" said Flint. "How many months?"

She shrugged. "Uh... I don't know. Maybe since November?"

"So, you weren't with him on February twelfth?" said Flint.

"No, no way," she said. Inside her apron, her phone vibrated. Without thinking about it, she fished it out and checked the screen.

"Could you wait a minute before you do that?" said Flint.

Her eyes had gotten wide, the size of saucers. "Um, what day did you say again? Because the thing is, I did see Brody recently."

Flint made a sour face. "He just texted you and asked you to lie for him, didn't he?"

"No," she said too quickly. "That's... that's ridiculous."

Flint held out his hand. "Let me see your phone."

She stuffed it back in her apron. "I don't have to give you my phone. I'm fairly sure you can't just take things from me."

Flint folded his arms over his chest.

She chewed on her lip. "Are you going to arrest him now? What did he do?"

"We don't know if he did anything," said Flint. "But since he's obviously trying to hide something, I have to ask. Have you ever seen him be violent? Do you think he would be capable of killing someone?"

"What?" said Gina. "No, that's not Brody at all. He's a nice guy. You can't seriously think that he's a murderer."

"Well, he's not doing himself any favors by not cooperating," said Flint, sighing.

CHAPTER SIX

After Flint dropped me off, I went for a walk on the beach, just trying to gather my thoughts. I wondered if an angry gargoyle really could have killed those two girls. Brody hadn't seemed guilty, but what did I know about that kind of thing?

I thought about what Gina had said, that everyone hated dragons, and I wondered if it were true. To everyone else, dragons probably did seem scary, I guessed. We had strong magic, and it was innate. We made the magic just by existing. We could shift into strong creatures who could fly, who could breathe fire.

But it wasn't as awful as the stories made it out. We weren't nearly as huge as some of the legends, for instance. When we shifted into dragon form, we tended to be about as tall as we were as humans. Of course, we also had tails and big wingspans, so we were formidable in size. But we weren't the size of whales or something.

And we had limitations. We could only use our magic if we'd shifted into dragon form within the past two weeks or so. We could also drain our magic if we used it too fast, meaning that we'd have to shift again to get more. And we could only shift in water.

The compulsion was something that really freaked people out. Being able to look into someone's eyes and tell them what to do and have them obey without question. I could see why that was terrifying. But it only worked when we were in the presence of someone. All our magic was like that, in fact. If we weren't close, we couldn't affect someone. And the compulsion only worked on utterly unmagical beings, which was why even having a small talisman on your person would protect you from compulsion.

Still, I supposed it might be true that people did hate us.

Most dragons were wealthy. There was a rumor that we had a magical connection to wealth and treasure, that we were driven to hoard it. It wasn't true. Dragons were wealthy for the same reason most people were wealthy. The wealth had been passed down over generations.

But did everyone hate dragons?

If the people around me were to find out, would they hate me?

Because if it wasn't an angry gargoyle that had killed those girls, but Alastair and he got locked up, there would be no reason for me to hide anymore. I could let everyone know what I was.

I guessed, with Alastair out of the way, I could even go back to my old life. Society parties and dragon coming-of-age ceremonies and all of that. But I didn't think so. Even without the threat of Alastair, I knew I wouldn't belong with them.

Not anymore.

The truth was, I might still technically be a dragon, but I wasn't like them anymore.

After my walk, I went back to the hotel.

As I walked into the lobby, I spotted a man in a leather jacket bent over a brochure, standing by the doorway. The jacket had a skull on the back...

Oh, hell, no. The vampires were back already?

I looked around for more of them, gathering up my magic. Maybe this time, I'd breathe some fire. It would wipe out all my magic if I did that, but it might be worth it. Maybe it would scare them all away once and for all.

There weren't any other vampires, though.

The one with the brochure turned slowly. He had slicked-back dark hair. He was smiling.

I stood my ground, unsure of what happened next. Were the other vampires hiding somewhere? Did they all jump out at once?

The vampire offered me his hand. "I don't think we've met. My name is Ace Gonzales."

I ignored his hand. "Get out." I said in a bored tone, as if he didn't unsettle me one bit. One thing I knew for sure was that showing weakness was never a good idea. If you showed your weakness, it got used against you.

"Oh, now is that fair? We've only just met, and you're already being so rude to me?"

"Well, I might have been more welcoming if your gang hadn't been here before you a few times, destroying all my property. That may have put a damper on our burgeoning polite acquaintanceship."

"I really have no idea what you're talking about," he said. "I do happen to know that there is a problem with gangs in the area and with vandalism. But my organization is here to protect, not destroy."

"Sure it is," I said.

"Well, someone like you doesn't need any protecting, do you, Penelope Cooper?"

"My last name's Caspian." I wandered over behind the counter, acting casual, but my heartbeat had sped up.

Connor was there, looking pale—well, as pale as a gargoyle can look, anyway.

I gave him a reassuring smile. "Why don't you take a break, Connor?"

"I told him to leave," said Connor, "but he wouldn't listen, and I didn't know what to do."

"It's fine." I smiled wider. "Go ahead."

Connor looked back and forth between me and the vampire. "I don't know, Penny. I think maybe I should stick around," he said in a low voice. "You might need me."

Ace laughed. "I'm not here to hurt your boss, I promise. I'm here to talk business. It's become clear to me that the way I was going about it before wasn't the most effective way, so I've shifted my approach."

I was tempted to just blast him with fire right then. Burn him to a crisp.

Of course, it probably wasn't safe to do that inside the hotel. I could end up burning the whole place to the ground. I guessed I wouldn't be using my pyrokinesis after all.

"As any good businessman should," Ace continued, chuckling.

I had to admit that it felt good to have Connor at my side. I felt stronger as I stared Ace down. "I want you out of here. There's no approach you could possibly use that would make me pay you one fucking cent."

Ace laughed again. He put his fingers to his mouth, feigning shock. "Ooh, the mouth on you, Mrs. Cooper."

"I told you," I said. "My name is Caspian."

"Your maiden name is Caspian." He approached the front desk and put both his palms down on the counter. "You know, it's funny, because when my guys came back telling me that you had strong magic, I figured that looking into you would only reveal that you were some kind of mage, one of those pathetic little ladies who bends over a cauldron, boiling down dragon gristle. Imagine my delight when I found out that you were the missing wife of one of the richest business moguls on the east coast."

My nostrils flared. So, I guessed I'd just been lucky so far. Flint had been right. It was far too easy to track me, to figure out who I was. "We're divorced." I came out from behind the counter. "Do I need to escort you out?"

"I'm not finished with my proposition," he said.

"I'm not interested. So, you know how to dig into a person's private past and bring up painful memories. What do you want? A medal?"

"No," he said. "More like I want you to pay me the going rate for protection of your business and provide me and my boys with a pint of your blood every week."

My mouth dropped open. "You think I would give you vermin my blood?"

He reached out and ran his fingers over my neck. "I could just take it."

I slapped his hand away. "Just try it," I snarled.

He laughed again. "It's been a while since I've tasted dragon's blood. And I don't think I've ever had it so fresh. Most of the stuff I get has been frozen, and it's not the same."

"Get. Out. Now."

"If you don't comply with my requests, Mrs. Cooper, I'll be forced to give your husband a call and tell him exactly where you are."

I clenched my hands into fists. I breathed in a lungful of air, and I felt power and heat gathering inside my lungs. Smoke trickled out of my mouth.

Ace took a step backwards.

I blew out a bright tongue of fire. It sizzled and crackled in the air, lighting up the room orange and red.

Ace tripped over his feet and went sprawling on his backside.

I hadn't even singed him. Unfortunately. But I couldn't risk the hotel, so I'd held back. I stepped over him, staring down at his stunned face. "You know what? I think maybe I'm tired of hiding. You tell Alastair anything you want. I don't care. Now get out of my hotel and don't come back."

* * *

"Where's your gargoyle?" said Flint, looking around the lobby of the hotel.

"Stone," I said. "It's daylight."

"Ah," he said. "Right. I forgot about that."

I shook my head at him. "How have you survived this long working as a police officer in this city without knowing this stuff?"

"Don't know," he said. "That's why I'm lucky to have you."

"You here to ask me questions about Alastair?"

"Actually, yes. I'm hoping to go and interview him today, and I want to know everything I can about him."

I took a deep breath. "I think I'd like to come when you interview him."

He raised his eyebrows.

"I'm sick of hiding," I said. "And besides, Alastair has ruined my life for too long. I need to move forward. If he did this, I want him locked up."

Flint nodded slowly, putting his hands in his pockets. "I guess that makes sense. And I think having you along might throw him off guard. Seeing you could affect him emotionally. I might be able to use that. But I don't know if it would be good for you."

"I didn't know you cared," I muttered. "A few days ago, you were convinced I was a murder suspect."

He gave me a funny look. "Of course I'm concerned about your welfare."

"Whatever." I logged out of the computer at the desk. "Let me find someone to cover the front desk. I'll meet you out front."

He didn't argue with me.

In about fifteen minutes, I was pulling the passenger door of Flint's car shut after me. It was midmorning, a nice spring day, with the sun shining and the temperatures in the upper fifties. The forecast promised that they'd climb into the low seventies. I rolled down the window a crack to get the smell of the sea air.

He put his sunglasses on and started the car. He pulled out of the parking lot and back onto Atlantic Avenue, heading north.

There was no traffic this time of year, this time of day, so it would only take us about fifteen minutes to get up to the north side of the city.

"I assume you have confirmation that Alastair is in town?" I said.

"Yeah, I wasn't going to interview him in Connecticut," he said.

"So, he's staying up north in one of those new housing developments."

"It appears so."

I felt my throat tighten. Had he known that I was here? "He hates the ocean," I said softly.

"What do I need to know?" said Flint. "You don't have to go into too much detail if it's painful, but what kind of hitting are we talking about here?"

"There are different kinds?"

He gripped the steering wheel. "You ever read Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad?"

"I don't think so," I said.

"Well, it's a story about a man who goes insane in Africa, all the while making a tribe of natives worship him as a god. The man's name is Kurtz, and he's psychotic. He thinks he's right about everything, thinks he's God's gift to Africa, but he's nothing more than a sad bully. Anyway, it starts out simple for Kurtz. But as time goes on, he starts to assert his dominance more and more. By the time the narrator in the book finds the guy, he's got a ring of heads on sticks around his house. He's not only killing people, he's displaying their heads like trophies."

I made a face. "That's... disgusting. What kind of book is this?"

"Look, the point is, a man like that, a man who enjoys dominating people, he works his way up to it. So, what kind of hitting are we talking about? How far did he go?"

I was quiet.

"If you don't want to talk about it—"

"It wasn't so much the hitting," I said. "It was what he did to my head, how he made me doubt myself, how me made me feel worthless."

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I get that."

We were silent for a bit, and the air coming through the window was too cold. I shivered, and then I rolled up my window.

"The reason I ask," said Flint in the voice he'd used on the beach, the intimate, soothing one that made me want to spill all my secrets, "is because I need to know if he takes pleasure in inflicting violence or not. If he's the one doing this to those girls, then I need to know what gets him going."

"Oh," I said. "Right."

"Did he slap you?"

"He never... cut me like the girls are cut," I said.

"No," said Flint. "But you were his mate. He valued you. These girls... they're disposable. Playthings to be used for a bit and tossed aside."

"Yeah," I said. "He just used his fists. We dragons, we can heal fast if we shift into dragon form, and it was like... if I did that and erased the damage, then it didn't matter what he did to me."

"He made you bleed then."

"Yes," I said softly.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm sorry it happened. I'm sorry I made you talk about it."

"It's okay," I said.

"We can talk about something else."

"No," I said. "There are things you need to understand about how it all works. The mating bond. When we see each other, it might be..." I bit my lip, trying to think about how to explain this.

"If you're trying to tell me that you still have feelings for him, I understand. That's typical, you know, even without this mating bond you're talking about."

"It's different," I said. "It manifests as a strong... physical attraction. Basically, the first time a dragon sees his or her mate, both of them are swept away by a very intense physical reaction. It's hard not to give in to that. It's hard to keep from..."

He waited.

I chewed on my bottom lip.

"From what?"

I winced. "Jumping each other's bones." I couldn't figure out a less crude way to put it.

He shot a glance across the car, eyebrows raised.

"I'm wearing a talisman," I said. "It dampens it, so I should be able to resist any... urges I might have." I was blushing now. My face felt incredibly hot.

"That's very interesting," he said.

"It is?"

"It's all sexual, then? This epic dragon bond is just instant, overwhelming lust?"

"That's not all it is," I said.

"What else is it?"

I didn't say anything.

He laughed. "And everyone says sex isn't the most important thing in a relationship."

"Sex is not the most important thing to dragons," I insisted, and my face was still burning. "It's not the most important thing to me."

"Obviously not. You left."

"It was not easy to leave. It was the hardest thing I ever did."

"Of course. I didn't mean it that way."

"How did you mean it?"

"The dragon couples always seem so happy when you see the pictures of them on the news at the charity functions. They're smiling and they've got their arms wound around each other. And in the human world, there's all this speculation about how it is that dragons maintain such loving, enduring relationships. And it turns out it's just sex. That's funny to me."

"I don't think it's just sex," I said. "And I didn't know that there was speculation about dragons." Why had I never spent any time thinking about how dragons were viewed by other creatures? "Look, I think we should change the subject now."

He was still laughing.

"Or maybe you want to discuss your sex life?"

"Nothing to discuss," he said. "And were we discussing your sex life? I think we were talking about dragons in general."

I rolled my eyes. "You're infuriating."

"Sorry." He didn't sound sorry. "You sure you want to go through with this? You don't have to see him."

"I can handle it," I snapped. Never show weakness.

* * *

I met Alastair when I was twenty-eight, which was relatively young for a person to find a mate. Dragons live around three hundred years on average, so it's not uncommon for dragons to spend fifty or even a hundred years single and searching. Lots of times, our mates live far away, across the ocean in other countries. Seems to be the way nature keeps us from getting too inbred, I suppose.

It can go the other way, of course. There have been cases in which dragons have known their mates all their lives, have grown up together. In that case, they tend to pair bond from puberty.

I came of age at sixteen, like all dragons, and I only had twelve years to myself before I became utterly consumed by Alastair.

I like to think that I was a hopeful sort of girl, that I was becoming someone with a good heart before he came into my life. After all, I helped Felicity. I had a good heart.

At least, I think I did.

It's hard to know anything anymore. Alastair made me question everything about myself. He made me feel guilty all the time. That was how he justified what he did to me. I was asking for it. If I could just stop being such a horrible person, then maybe he would be able to stop hurting me.

He used to admit that what he did was wrong.

But, he'd say, I didn't make it easy for him, what with the way I behaved. I was so selfish and shallow that he could barely control himself.

And there were things about me that might have been shallow, might have been selfish.

I lost my parents when I was a small girl, only ten or twelve. They were out flying together, and they were both taken by a slayer.

At least, that's what we think.

They were never found, because slayers don't leave anything behind. They kill dragons and then sell them off piecemeal.

I was raised by grandparents after that, and they were grieving themselves and also worried about me, and grandparents on top of everything. Maybe I was spoiled. Maybe I was overly indulged. Maybe I spent my life thinking that I was entitled to anything that I wanted.

But I never wished any harm on anyone else, and if I thought I was entitled, I also thought everyone else was entitled too. I didn't want anyone to suffer.

Maybe I'm protesting too much.

But I get confused sometimes, I have to admit. There are things that I used to think about myself, and then things that I came to think of myself because of what Alastair drilled into me. Sometimes, I can't tell the difference. I don't know what I think of myself.

When we first met, it was perfect, the way everyone said it would be.

He was older than me by about ten years, but that wasn't much of a big deal. He was still young, too. And he was the heir to a fortune. He had been made CEO of a big insurance company, and we were a golden couple. Young and beautiful and rich.

We had a lavish wedding, a honeymoon in paradise, and a blissful first six months of lovemaking and closeness.

When I look back now, I see how he was planting the seeds for what would come, but at the time, I was clueless.

I remember the first night that I cooked for him. I wasn't really very good at cooking, because I'd always had someone to do it for me, but I wanted to impress him, do something sweet and intimate for my husband, who I adored.

I made fettuccine Alfredo, and I made the Alfredo sauce from scratch with cream and freshly grated Parmesan.

At least I tried. It didn't quite come together. I had the heat too high on the skillet, and the Parmesan separated and the sauce got oily, and Alastair laughed at me and refused to eat it, and said that I was the worst cook he'd ever seen.

And when I cried, he said he was only teasing and what the hell was wrong with me to get so upset over nothing. He said I was a big baby.

It hurt, because I wanted to please him, and I hadn't.

But I figured he must be right. After all, I had totally ruined the sauce. Although I tasted it and it tasted divine. It looked bad, but it was positively scrumptious. Didn't matter, though. He had been teasing me. I had been too sensitive. It was all my fault.

It wasn't a big deal, honestly. Not being nice about my failed cooking attempt didn't mean he was an abusive asshole, of course.

But it was the beginning of the way he berated me and the way he put me down.

By the time he did hit me, he had already convinced me I deserved it.

Sometimes, when I looked back on my life with him, when I thought about how far under his thumb I had actually been, I thought it was a miracle that I had ever gotten away from him at all.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Alastair's house was a beige color. It was three stories and it was up on stilts on the bay, west of Atlantic Avenue, instead of east on the ocean. There was a dock behind the house and a speedboat was attached, floating in the water. It gleamed in the morning sunlight.

Detective Flint got out of the car and took off his sunglasses. He tucked them inside his suit jacket and surveyed the house.

I swallowed and put my hand on the car door.

Flint peered the through windshield at me. "You want to stay here?"

I flung the door open. "I'm coming with you."

He shrugged. "Okay." Without waiting to see if I was following, he strode over the driveway, up the sidewalk, and began climbing the steps to the front door.

I hurried after him. The breeze seemed cold now, and it was cutting through the light sweater I was wearing. I huddled inside it, hunching up my shoulders as I went up the steps behind Flint.

Flint rang the doorbell.

We waited.

My heart started to beat so loudly and so fast, I was sure everyone in the whole city could hear it.

Flint inspected his jacket. He flicked a piece of lint off the sleeve. He looked me over. "You cold?"

"No," I said, my voice too high.

He shrugged again. He pressed the doorbell again. He banged a few times on the door. "SCPD," he called. "Anyone home?"

Oh, God. I hadn't even thought of that. What if he wasn't home? What if I was getting all nervous here for nothing, and he wouldn't come to the door after all? Then we'd have to come back, wouldn't we?

I didn't know if I could handle coming back.

Overhead, a seagull squawked as it flew by us.

I became aware of the sound of the traffic in the distance. The rushing sound of cars going past, a horn blaring.

I looked up at the sky above us. It was bright blue, dotted with fluffy clouds that looked like cotton balls.

I didn't think I owned any cotton balls. Alastair would probably call that carelessness. He'd say that not having cotton balls was not being prepared. He'd say that there was no way that a spoiled brat like me could possibly take care of herself on her own, and that I was already screwing up my household so much—

The door opened.

My heart stopped beating.

But it was only the housekeeper. She had headphones around her neck. She smiled cheerfully. "I was listening to music. Almost didn't hear you. Can I help you?"

Flint showed her his badge. "We're here to see Alastair Cooper."

The housekeeper's eyes widened. "Wow. Okay. Well, let me see if he's available, I guess." She looked behind herself into the house for a second and then turned back to us. "Come in." She stepped aside.

We entered a foyer area with a set of steps to the right and bamboo wardrobe to the left. Ahead of us, hanging on the wall, was a large circular mirror, ringed by glass dolphins.

The housekeeper held up a finger. "Wait here." She disappeared up the steps.

I still felt cold. I burrowed under my sweater.

Flint opened the wardrobe. There were several windbreakers hanging inside.

A fishing pole rested against one side. Next to the fishing pole were a pair of black galoshes. They looked too clean to have ever been worn.

I shivered. This place didn't look like Alastair at all. It was too warm and beachy. Alastair liked things cool and clean and sleek, with sharp angles.

Maybe he'd had the place decorated by someone else? Paid a decorator to do it?

I couldn't picture him relinquishing control in that way.

Footsteps.

Coming down the steps.

Suddenly, I wasn't cold. I was hot. I was sweating and the sweater was cutting off my circulation. I had to get it off. Now.

I struggled with it, yanking it off of my sleeves, pulling it away from my body.

And when I looked up, there he was.

He saw me and he froze on the stairs there. He was wearing a pair of well-worn jeans and a linen shirt. His feet were bare. He looked the way he always had. Too beautiful for words.

My heart stopped.

My mouth got dry.

My nipples pebbled against my bra and heat started to gather between my thighs.

He was tall with wide shoulders and a little bit of dark hair scattered over his upper chest. It peeked out where his shirt was unbuttoned. He had some dark stubble on his chin and cheeks. It made him look tousled and male and gorgeous. His eyes were green and open and twinkling.

I thought about the way he kissed.

I thought about the way he fucked.

I thought about riding him, his hands on my breasts, his thick cock spearing me as I bucked against him and cried out and came and came and came and—

"Mr. Cooper, my name is Detective Lachlan Flint. I'd like to ask you some questions."

"Penny?" Alastair's voice was hoarse.

"Mr. Cooper," said Flint.

Alastair started toward me.

I held up both hands to ward him off. "Don't," I said, my voice barely a whisper. There was the sex, sure, but there were other memories too. Him standing over me, my blood smearing his fists, sneering, Don't get up. If you get up, it means you want more. Do you want more, Penny?

I shuddered.

Flint stepped between us. "She wanted to come along. Sorry if it's a shock."

"I thought you were dead." Alastair had yet to even acknowledge Flint.

"You knew I wasn't dead," I said. "I served you with divorce papers."

"Mr. Cooper," said Flint.

Alastair finally looked at him. "Who are you?"

"I understand you saw Sophia Ward on February twelfth?" said Flint.

Alastair just shook his head. He turned back to me. "Penny, let's talk. All I want is to talk. Just you and me. Please, I know that I screwed up, but I've changed. You can't imagine how horrible it's been without you. I miss you so much, baby." He reached his hand out, around Flint.

Flint chuckled. "See, that's not going to happen."

My body wanted him. My body was aching for his touch, for the feel of his mouth on me. I wanted to press myself against him, breathe in his scent, rip open his shirt and kiss my way down his stomach.

But that was all it was.

Whatever else that had been there, the love for him, the desire to do what he asked or to make him happy? All of that was gone.

"I need you to stop trying to get closer to Ms. Caspian," said Flint.

"Her name is Cooper. She's my wife." Alastair looked at Flint, and I could see that he was starting to get angry.

"Sophia Ward," said Flint. "You saw her that night?"

Alastair's nostrils flared. He narrowed his eyes and focused in on Flint. "You want to to step out of the way," he said softly, but there was an echo to his voice that caused horror to shoot through me.

How could I have been so stupid?

Compulsion. Alastair was going to compel Flint to do his bidding, and I was going to have no protection whatsoever against him. I thought that I could be strong, but I wasn't sure. I might fall right over on my back with my legs open if Alastair pushed.

And I never wanted that man to put his hands on my body again, despite how the stupid mating bond might make me aroused in his presence.

Alastair had ruined me. It had taken every shred of strength to get away from him.

I would be damned if I let him touch me now.

"No," said Flint, "I don't."

What? The compulsion wasn't working on Flint? Why? Did he have a talisman somewhere that I didn't know about? He was so clueless about magic that it seemed unlikely he would know to wear one for protection.

Alastair's face twitched. "What are you?" he growled.

"I'm a police detective," said Flint. " And I want to know about Sophia Ward."

"Yes, I saw her," said Alastair.

"You, in fact, may be the last person to see her alive," said Flint.

"I don't know about that," said Alastair. He turned back to me. "Penny, why are you here with this man?"

"I'm a consultant for the police department," I said. "I'm the magical creatures expert."

Alastair shook his head. "You protected him."

I hadn't, but let him think what he wanted.

"Mr. Cooper, I need you to focus. What was the nature of your interaction with Sophia Ward?"

Alastair was furious. I could see it in the way he was holding himself. He wanted to punch something. But he didn't. He looked Flint up and down. "I was looking after her. She was my neighbor. Her family lives next door, and her older brother asked me to keep an eye on her. Why are you asking me this?"

"Well, she was murdered," I said. "Maybe you heard about that?"

Alastair sneered. "You're spreading lies about me again, aren't you, Penny. Telling people that I beat you, making them think that I'm a bad guy. Well, I'm not. You're a lying bitch, and I'm not answering any more of these questions." He put a finger in Flint's face. "Out of my house."

Flint smiled. "All right, then, Mr. Cooper. I'll be in touch If I have anything more."

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Where is it?" I said to Flint as he pulled the car out of Alastair's driveway.

"Where's what?" he said. "You know I was expecting you to start ripping off your clothes or something. You were really very subdued. Or did you find that the unbridled lust had faded with time?"

"I told you, I have a talisman," I said. "Where's yours?"

"I don't have a talisman." He gave me a strange look.

"How did you resist the compulsion, then?"

"What's compulsion?"

"It's mind-control magic."

"Dragons have mind-control magic? You didn't think to tell me this before we went to this interview?"

"I..."

"Do I need to explain to you exactly what I might want from a magical creatures consultant?"

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "It didn't work on you, anyway. I don't know why."

He furrowed his brow. "Maybe your ex-husband isn't at the top of his game. Maybe seeing you affected his magic. Is that possible?"

I considered. "Maybe."

He put on his blinker and turned the car into the driveway of the house next door to Alastair's.

"Hey," I said. "What are you doing?"

"Going to talk to Sophia Ward's brother. Alastair said that they were his neighbors."

"But that doesn't mean that her brother lives here. Maybe Sophia lived on her own."

"Well, her parents live here anyway," he said in a quiet voice. "I've been here already once before. I took her father to the station to identify Sophia's body."

I tried to imagine the horror of that, how every fiber of her father's being must have wanted the body to belong to someone else, must have wanted that body not to be his daughter.

I shook myself. I didn't want to imagine that.

"Her brother will probably be here," Flint continued. "Families tend to stay close in the wake of a tragedy."

That was true, as far as it went. I remembered that all my aunts, uncles, and cousins had descended on my grandparents' house when my parents died. True, that was only my mother's two sisters and their husbands and children, but for a dragon clan, that was an enormous amount of people.

"Do you know Sophia's brother?" said Flint.

"No, not really," I said. "I may have met him at a party or a function once, but I don't remember anything about him."

Flint was right. Sophia's brother was there. His name was Declan, and he was much older than Sophia. He was over a hundred, maybe closer to two hundred. It was tough to tell, honestly. Dragons didn't really start to look old until we hit two hundred forty or so. Big age gaps of fifty or seventy-five years between siblings wasn't unusual in families, however, owing to the difficulty we had with conceiving.

Declan stood out on the back porch with us, clutching a glass of scotch which he wasn't drinking, and staring out at the bay. His nose was red. His eyes were bloodshot. "I never had any such conversation with Alastair Cooper," he said in a low growl.

"No?" said Flint. "He seemed fairly certain that you wanted him to look out for Sophia."

"I don't know what she was doing with him," said Declan. He looked around Flint at me. "Listen, I don't know what went on between the two of you. I guess you did what you had to do. But owing to the fact that Alastair couldn't even keep his own mate, a woman who was destined to be with him, I wouldn't exactly trust him around my baby sister."

"Fair enough," said Flint.

"Is that how everyone feels?" I said. "I would have thought that maybe people would... blame me for leaving."

Declan looked into his scotch. "Well, no one understands it, I have to admit that. I can promise you that my wife is not perfect, and that our relationship is hard work, but leaving her is unthinkable."

I swallowed. "Right." Why had I thought anything different?

"So, you don't have any idea why Mr. Cooper would have said what he said?" Flint asked. "Maybe something could have given him the impression that he should look after Sophia?"

"No," sad Declan. "Why are you asking me this, anyway?"

"Just doing a bit of investigation, that's all. I really don't need anything else, so I'll just thank you for your time and be on my way." Flint held out his hand to shake.

Declan grasped his hand. "If he's lying about this, and he was with her, then does that mean...?"

"Doesn't mean anything," said Flint.

"You think he did it." Declan's nostrils flared. "That bastard, if I get my hands on him—"

"No." Flint shook his head. He took Declan by the shoulders. It was a little odd, because Declan was a very tall man, and he had about four inches on Flint. But Flint radiated confidence even if he was the shorter man. His voice went low and gentle—the same lilting, intimate voice he'd used on me several times. "Listen to me, you do not want to do that."

"But if he's guilty—"

"That's my job," said Flint. "You are in no shape to tackle something like that. And you're too close to it. Don't get your hands dirty. Sophia wouldn't like that."

Declan's chin trembled.

Flint let go of him but maintained eye contact.

Declan dumped the whole glass of scotch into his mouth. "She was so young," he whispered. Tears were forming in his eyes. He turned back to the bay, setting down his glass and gripping the railing. He bowed his head.

"I'm very sorry for what you're going through," Flint whispered. "I really am." He nodded at me.

We left.

* * *

When Flint dropped me off back at the hotel, I was halfway out of the car when he stopped me. "I noticed the other day that you were getting that window replaced." He pointed at the window to the door in the lobby. "How'd that happen?"

"What? How'd it get broken?"

"Yeah."

"It was an accident." I got out of the car.

"If you got trouble, let me know. I might be able to help," he said.

"I don't have any trouble I can't handle," I said and hurried inside. I trooped upstairs to my apartment where Felicity was coming out of her bedroom in her cleaning outfit, an old pair of shorts and a t-shirt. She thought it was ridiculous to try to make the cleaning staff keep a uniform clean while scrubbing toilets, and I agreed.

"Hey there," she said cheerily.

"Are you short someone today?" I asked. She didn't usually do the actual cleaning unless she needed to step in for a member of her staff. "You need my help?"

She laughed. "Your help? You'd clean the rooms?"

"I wouldn't screw up laundry at the very least," I said.

"No, I don't need you." She grinned at me. "But you're a sweetheart for asking. Where have you been all day, anyway?"

"Detective Flint came by, and we went to see Alastair."

"What?" Felicity was taken aback. "You did what?"

I rubbed my face. "I just... I'm sick of running, you know? And now, it's looking like he might be the person who killed those dragon girls, and if that's the case, then I want to do whatever I can to put him away."

"Whoa, slow down." She took me by the arm and led me over to the couch in the living room. We sat down together. "You think Alastair is a murderer?"

"He was the last person to be seen with Sophia Ward," I said. "And he lied about the reason."

"That doesn't sound good." Felicity blew out a noisy breath. "Wow, how crazy."

"Yeah."

"But you saw him? Are you okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm fine. I was actually stronger than I thought I was going to be. I thought that if I ever saw him again, I'd lose it. I'd just fall all over him, you know?"

"But you didn't?"

"Part of me wanted to." I bit down on my bottom lip. "But I felt separated from it. I know the talisman helps, but it wasn't just that. I felt as if I could tell that all of it was only physical, you know? That it wasn't actually anything real."

"The physical is real."

"No, I know. I guess it's got something to do with this conversation I was having with Detective Flint. I was trying to explain how the dragon mating bond works and he just started laughing, and said it was all about sex. Said that people thought the bond was so epic, and here it was just physical arousal."

"Well, it's more than that," said Felicity. "You loved Alastair."

"I did love him," I said. "But that wasn't something that was forced upon me by a magical dragon bond. Flint was right. All I experienced was a deeply intense sexual attraction. And I let myself fall in love with him because I thought that meant we were destined to be together. But the truth is, I'm not trapped by that stupid mating bond. I think I was convinced that Alastair was my one chance at love, but now I'm not so sure."

Felicity grinned. "Is it more than coincidental that you've been decided you might have another chance at love after you've been spending so much time with this detective guy?"

"What?" I shook my head. "No, that's ridiculous."

"Is it? You said he was attractive, right?"

I got up off the couch. "Just because I might think that there's a chance in the abstract that I could fall in love again doesn't mean... I'm not even sure if I like Flint as a human being."

Felicity didn't say anything. She was still grinning.

I bent down and began straightening the knick knacks on our coffee table. "Sometimes he seems so caring and sweet, like a really decent guy. But then I feel like... I don't know, maybe it's all an act and underneath he's just... cold."

"Really? What makes you think that?" Felicity wasn't smiling anymore.

"He's really focused on his job, like he's obsessed with it. Things he's said, I don't think he has anything besides the job. I don't think he wants anything else. And sometimes he can be so glib." I sat down on an easy chair opposite Felicity.

"You want to know what I think?"

"You're going to tell me no matter what I say, right?"

She laughed again. "I think that you're afraid to trust anyone after what happened with Alastair, and you're just looking for faults in Flint." She knitted her brow together. "Why are we calling him by his last name? What's his first name?"

"Lachlan," I said.

"Ooh," she said, "that's dreamy."

"Shut up." I threw a pillow at her.

"Speaking of dreamy," she said, "you going to have dinner with Jensen and me?"

"Jensen is your new beau?" I said. "The one you seem to be spending every night with?"

"That's him. I really want you to meet him."

"I'm game. When are we doing this thing?"

She got up from the couch. "Maybe tonight? Maybe tomorrow night? I'll get back with you, okay?"

"Sure thing," I said.

"I've got beds to make, floors to vacuum." She headed for the door. "You want to do lunch at the Flamingo today?"

"Yeah, I'll see you there around one," I said.

She waved, made a silly face, and was gone.

I sagged into the easy chair.

* * *

It turned out that Jensen was free for dinner that night, and so Felicity and I met him at Lombardo's, a pizza and pasta joint on Atlantic Avenue. When we arrived at the restaurant, he was already at our table, and the waitress escorted us over.

That left a bad taste in my mouth. Why couldn't the guy just wait out front for us? Why'd he have to go and get the table? It wasn't as if the place was real busy. No place was real busy in March.

When we got to the table, Jensen got up to give Felicity a kiss. When they broke apart, I got a good look at him. He was unremarkable. Average height, average build, sandy hair, glasses. He wasn't overly handsome. He wasn't ugly either.

I was probably being hard on him. I sat down.

Jensen and Felicity sat down too.

The waitress scampered off, but not before I caught her giving Felicity a dirty look. "There goes her tip," I muttered.

"What's that?" said Jensen.

"That waitress obviously doesn't approve of drakes," I said. "That kind of bigotry makes me sick."

"Me too," said Jensen, reaching over to stroke Felicity's cheek. "She's a treasure, this one."

Treasure? Seriously?

"Anyway," Jensen continued, "that's why I got this table before you guys showed up. I didn't want to get shunted into some drafty corner somewhere because of prejudice."

I pressed my lips together. Sure, sure, sure.

"You know I don't care about that crap," said Felicity. "People want to be dicks, that's their thing. I swear, between the two of you both trying to protect me, it's a little much."

"I'm never going to stop trying to protect you," I said.

"And neither am I," Jensen said.

The waitress came back with a wine glass full of thick red liquid. She set it down in front of Jensen. "Your cow's blood, sir." She turned to me. "What can I get you to drink?"

I couldn't speak. I was too stunned to even think. I just shook my head. Inside my skull, I could hear the sound of my own blood rushing at my temples, like an ocean of anger.

"We'll have a bottle of wine," said Felicity. "House red would be great."

"Sure thing," said the waitress, going off again.

I put both my hands on the table top to keep from reaching out and strangling Jensen. Or from using my magic to smash him against the floor really hard. "You're a vampire?" I said in a barely-controlled voice.

He raised his eyebrows. "Felicity didn't tell you?"

I got up and went over to Felicity, yanking aside her shirt collar.

She shoved me. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Looking for bite marks," I said.

"Oh, no," said Felicity, glaring at me. "Do not act like this Penny. This is ridiculous. He's not drinking my blood."

"Yet," I said. "He's just biding his time." I turned to Jensen, putting my finger in his face. "That's the reason you're dating a drake. All the blood you might want. Magic damned blood. Everyone knows that drake blood works almost as well as dragon blood to give vampires magic powers."

"What?" said Jensen. "Magic what?" He looked thoroughly confused. "Look, I didn't mean to become a vampire. I had cancer. I tried an experimental treatment of dragon blood, but it didn't work. I died anyway, but I came back, since I had the blood in my system. I never wanted this. When the treatment was explained to me, the risk of becoming a vampire wasn't even mentioned. Felicity and I have a lot in common, considering we were both changed by accident. That's why I'm dating her. I would never use her."

"Whatever." I grabbed Felicity by the arm and dragged her to her feet. "We're leaving. You're not going to see this guy again."

She pushed me away. "You're leaving. You're incredibly rude, and I don't even want to look at you anymore."

"Felicity, you have to realize what it is that he's doing to you."

"No, I don't." Her face was flushed red and her scales were starting to turn even an deeper green-blue. "Either apologize to my boyfriend or get away from me."

"I'm not leaving without you."

"Oh, right now, I don't even want to look at you," she snarled.

CHAPTER NINE

So, eventually, I left.

We all did, because the owner of the restaurant asked us to. We were causing a disturbance.

Felicity had come with me in my car, but she got in Jensen's in the parking lot, and she didn't even say goodbye to me. She was clearly pissed.

I tried to tell myself that she'd be okay. After all, she'd been spending every night with the guy for weeks and she didn't seem to be hurt. Plus, having his plan to drink her blood outed by me would make him a bit more cautious. I'd bought her some time.

But I was going to have to convince her to get away from this guy, who was clearly bad news.

However, by the time I drove back to the hotel, I wasn't so sure that I had done the right thing after all. Maybe I was overreacting.

Felicity said that I always thought the worst of men, that I was overly cautious because of what had happened between me and Alastair. I thought everyone was out to get me or out to get her.

She kept trying to assure me that there were men out there that were good. That, in fact, the men who were bad were few and far between. The good men outnumbered the bad.

I knew she was right. Not every man out there was trying to take advantage of her.

But I couldn't bear the thought of my best friend being hurt the way I had. I just never wanted anything like that to happen to her.

Still, maybe I should give Jensen the benefit of a doubt.

Maybe I should apologize.

Ugh.

That was when I realized the light was off in the lobby.

Weird.

Connor was supposed to be working the front desk. Why had he turned the light off?

I pushed open the front door. "Connor?" Inside, it was dark, and the television that hung over the door was lying on the floor, its screen shattered.

"Connor!" I yelled.

"Here," came a strained voice.

I ran in the direction of the sound and found him behind the front desk, sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall.

"What happened?" I said, kneeling down next to him.

"It was the vampires," he said. "I tried to stop them. I should have been able to hold my own. I'm a gargoyle. I was created to fight dragons. I'm supposed to be strong as all hell." He was clutching his stomach.

I could see a dark stain on his shirt. "You're bleeding."

"One of them had a knife," he muttered.

"Okay, we're calling an ambulance." I got up, digging my phone out of my purse.

"No, it's okay," he said. "It'll be okay. I heal fast. Besides, doctors never know what to do with gargoyles."

I knelt back down. "Let me see it. If it looks too deep, you're going to the hospital."

He grunted, moving his hand.

Carefully, I peeled his shirt away from the wound. His skin was ashy, the blood dark and black. I snatched some tissues off the desk and began to gently dab at the wound.

Once I got the blood away, I could see that it was a long, shallow cut. It was already knitting itself back together.

"They had a message for you," said Connor.

"Let's get you bandaged," I said, helping him to his feet.

"He said he hoped your husband would help you take care of all the people they were going to hurt," he said.

I snorted. "Screw that. If he was going to Alastair, he would have already. He's afraid of him. No vampire has the balls to call up a dragon out of the blue."

"Maybe not," said Connor. He leaned on me as we headed back the hallway to the bathroom.

Once inside, I turned on the light, put the seat on the toilet and had him sit down. I worked on cleaning up the wound. "No, they aren't going to Alastair, but hurting you is much worse."

"I'm sorry I was such a waste of space," he said. "I really tried to save the TV."

"You are far more important than a television set." I applied some ointment and then bandaged him up.

"Thanks," he said, touching the bandage. "This is probably overkill. I'll heal up before morning."

"You were bleeding a lot," I said. "You don't want it to scar."

He shrugged. "I guess not. Although scars might make me look really sexy and butch."

"Butch?" I said. "You?"

"What? I could be butch." He stood up and squared his shoulders, flexing his wings.

I patted him on the arm. "Of course you could."

"You don't have to patronize me just because I'm hurt. It's not even that bad. If I hadn't been so freaked out by the blood, maybe I could have done something to stop them."

"They outnumbered you," I said. "Stop blaming yourself. But we are going to have to do something about this. It's getting to be a big problem. I won't let those vampires hurt my friends."

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know yet, but this is going to stop. I will never let anything like this happen to you again." I looked deep into his eyes, promising. "Ever."

* * *

"You came," said Flint at the door to Happy Harry's Bar and Grill. The place was a hole in the wall that seemed to be frequented by a mix of drakes, vampires and slayers. It was an odd mix, considering most slayers didn't do much fraternizing with magical creatures, but I guessed they had to get intel someplace.

"You said you might need my help," I said. "Of course I came. But I've got to tell you. I don't know much about slayers." Apparently, that was the suspect we were interviewing. Even though these murders weren't typical slayer killings, Flint said this guy might be involved.

"I know that," he said. "But it might be good if you were along for all the interviews from here on out, I think. You could be a sort of sounding board for me." He gestured with his head, and we entered the bar.

Inside, the place was dimly lit with recessed blue lighting. There was a jukebox in the corner, blaring out some gangsta rap from the late 1990s. A group of drakes sat at the bar. One had a face entirely covered in scales. When he spoke, a tiny forked tongue unfurled from his mouth, as if he were a serpent. Another had ridges and horns all over his back and shoulders.

They turned to look at me and there was hunger in their eyes.

Could they see I was a dragon?

Could they tell somehow?

There were stories about drakes going mad if they hadn't had any meat to eat in a few days. Turning into terrifying monsters that ripped apart anyone and anything in their paths.

These drakes weren't insane, were they?

I stepped closer to Flint, feeling unsettled and unsure. I was pretty confident that no one could sense that I was a dragon, but I wasn't sure. At any rate, a drake was addicted to dragon flesh. I wasn't in my dragon form. They wouldn't be interested in me.

Abruptly, Flint sat down at a table and tugged me down next to him.

There, sitting by himself was a man covered in tattoos. He had a purple mohawk and the seat next to him was taken up by his huge bow and quiver of arrows.

"Otis! Good to see you."

Otis looked both of us over. "You're the cop, ain'tcha? Who's the girl?"

"She's my associate," said Flint. "Want to answer a few questions?"

"Not really."

"We can do it here or downtown," said Flint, smiling easily, as if he weren't threatening the guy.

"I ain't got nothing to say to you," said Otis. "I done told you that I just use this here bow to hunt me some deer out on the other side of the bay. You keep saying I'm a dragon slayer, but I ain't."

"Oh, come on, Otis," said Flint, laughing. "We both know that you hate dragons. You despise them."

"I got no feelings about them one way or the other," said Otis.

"That so? What happened to your little twin sisters, Otis? Bobby Sue and Etta Mae? They were five years old when they got lost on that camping trip, weren't they?"

"You don't know nothing about my sisters." Otis sneered at him.

"You thought it was a dragon, didn't you? When you found their tiny little singed bodies, you were sure—"

"Shut up." Otis leaned across the table, baring his teeth.

"That didn't happen," I said in horror. "Dragons don't hurt people, especially not little girls."

Otis turned to me, sneering. "Oh, you don't think so, girly? Let me tell you, those dragons can't control themselves in their reptile form, but they're rich, all right, and they're happy to cover up whatever mess they make. There are literally hundreds of dragon killings every year, and ain't no one doing a thing about it. It's a conspiracy, that's what it is."

I licked my lips. Oh. He was crazy, then. A conspiracy.

"If dragons didn't kill my little sisters, then what did? They was burned." Otis folded his arms over his chest.

"Maybe a young dragon. Right after puberty, when shifting is new, maybe a very young dragon could have lost control—" I shook my head. "But young dragons don't breathe fire. Only mated dragons can breathe fire." Of course, very occasionally young dragons were already mated. "I'm sorry about your sisters," I murmured.

"Oh, everybody is," said Otis. "But that don't change nothing, does it?"

"Well, that's why you change things. You and the Brotherhood, that is. You're out there ridding the world of dragons and magic half-breeds," said Flint.

"No, I ain't," said Otis. "I ain't in that Brotherhood group. They're hateful human supremists, and I ain't got nothing to do with them."

"Those dragon girls that washed up on shore," said Flint. "You probably thought that was a good thing. A few less dragons in the world—"

"I didn't do nothing to hurt those dragon girls," said Otis. "I ain't in the Brotherhood. You just stop it with your accusations."

"Now, did I say you had anything to do with it?" said Flint.

"Not out loud, no, but that's what you meant. You would have been coming around to it in a few minutes." Otis wagged his finger at Flint. "I remember you. You got a mouth on you. You sit there and talk and talk some more. You talk real good. Before too long, listening to you, I get all mixed up. I ain't doing that again. You leave me alone, you here? I ain't had nothing to do with it."

* * *

Flint held the door for me as we left the bar. "Well, what do you think?"

Otis had clammed up pretty quick after that, refusing to say a word. Eventually, he got up, took his bow and arrows, and left us at the table. That was when we left too.

"About Otis?" I said. "Or about a dragon attacking little girls and killing them? I've never heard anything so horrible in my entire life."

"You said that was impossible," said Flint. He looked around the parking lot. "Did you drive?"

I pointed. "My car's over there."

"I'll walk you to your car." He started off in that direction.

I matched his pace. "I don't know. I think it is impossible. I can control myself as a dragon. I don't have any urges to hurt things. I just..." I shook my head. "But what else could it have been? He said they were burned."

"He's lying," said Flint. "Or he's confused. Or he's convinced himself of it so that he feels justified in killing dragons and selling their bodies for profit."

"Maybe," I said. I had almost forgotten what the man was. I'd been feeling sorry for him, and he might well have been the very person who killed my parents. I felt myself harden toward him. "You think he did it, then?"

"It's too early in the investigation to know," said Flint. "And Otis isn't going to be cooperative."

We reached my car. I opened the door and got inside.

Flint grabbed the door and leaned in. "Hey, you got anything going right now?"

"Why?"

"I'm about to head up to talk to a girl says she's Sophia's best friend. I'm hoping she might know more about why Sophia was with Alastair. You want to come?"

"Sure," I said. "Should I follow you?"

"Yeah, okay," he said. "I'd tell you to just leave your car here, but this place is a little sketchy. Probably better not to leave it parked in this lot too long."

* * *

"I don't know anything about Alastair Cooper," said Deena Walsh. "I mean, I've seen him around at some parties and functions, but..."

"So, he wasn't spending time with you and Sophia that night?" Flint asked.

"No, not that I can recollect." She considered, and then shook her head. "I mean, that bar was packed that night. It was a Mardi Gras thing. Everyone was wearing masks. I kept losing track of Sophia. When she didn't come back home with me, I just figured she'd found another ride. But then she never showed up. Finding out that she was dead all that time..." Deena swallowed, her eyes looking bright. "I just feel awful. I should have looked harder for her."

"It wasn't your fault," I said.

"Of course it wasn't," said Flint. "But anything you can remember would be helpful."

"Well, I don't know. I know that Amber saw her with Mr. Cooper, but I didn't. And I can't imagine she would be hanging out with him anyway. She had a boyfriend."

"I thought she was unmated." Flint looked confused.

Deena rolled her eyes. "That mating stuff is so bogus. I don't even know if I believe in it, right? I think that maybe it's just your parents giving you a big wad of cash for your wedding present that makes you take yourself off the market."

"It's real," I said in a clipped voice.

"But you left," said Deena. "You left Mr. Cooper. So how real could it really be?"

Flint raised his hand. "Let's leave this argument aside for the moment. She had a boyfriend, but he wasn't her mate."

"Yeah, some of us think it's stupid that we have to be set up in these arranged marriages," said Deena. "We want to pick for ourselves. No one will allow us to do that, but we don't care."

"Because," I said, "when you meet your mate, you'll leave the person you chose behind."

"You sound like my parents." Deena rolled her eyes.

"But who was her boyfriend?" said Flint.

"I don't know," said Deena. "She was real secretive about it."

"Why was that? Because having boyfriends is forbidden?" said Flint.

"It's not forbidden," I said. "Unmated dragons are always flitting about from partner to partner. That's normal."

"But they were serious," said Deena. "Really serious. And no one likes that."

I shrugged. She was overstating it, really. Unmated dragons didn't get it. Once they found their mate, they understood. If Sophia's elders didn't approve of her having a serious relationship with a person who wasn't her mate, it was only because they wanted to spare her the difficulty it would cause once she did find her mate. They were only thinking of her well-being, not trying to unfairly dictate her life.

"So, she kept him a secret," said Flint. "And you don't know anything about him?"

"He was older," said Deena. "Over a hundred, I think. He was really well-off, even by our standards. He owned several big companies, and they were always buying up more. She was always saying that she couldn't visit him because of another merger, which took up all his time. And he never came to Sea City. He spent all his time in New York."

Flint nodded slowly. "Nothing else?"

She thought about it. "She was always talking about his penis?"

Flint held up a hand. "That's all right. You don't have to go into that."

Deena blushed. "Sorry."

"No, you're right to be thorough," said Flint, smiling. "But I doubt that will help us identify him."

* * *

"You think this mysterious boyfriend could be our killer?" I said. We were standing outside my car in front of Deena's family's home.

"Unlikely if he really never came to Sea City," said Flint.

"True," I said.

"If what she said is true, though, and he's a rich, over-one-hundred-year-old dragon who owns a conglomerate, then that's a pretty small list, isn't it?"

I thought about it. "You're right. And I don't know of anyone who matches that description who isn't already mated."

"Maybe that's why she was keeping it a secret. Maybe her boyfriend was cheating on his wife."

"Maybe," I said.

"Of course, maybe she made up all those details. If she was really trying to keep him a secret, maybe she didn't share anything accurate about him at all."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that."

Flint dug his phone out of his pocket, holding up a finger. He put it to his ear. "Flint here.... Yeah, I saw the other calls. I've been busy, though.... Oh. No, you were right, that is something I would want to know about. Thanks." He hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket. "Another dragon girl has been reported missing."

"What?" I said. "Who?"

"Dahlia Brooks," he said. "You know her?"

"No, the name doesn't ring a bell. I know the Brooks family, though."

"Well," he said, "maybe it's unrelated. Maybe she'll turn up at home and it will have all been a prank or something."

"Or maybe she's the next victim."

He looked at his feet. "That's always a possibility."

CHAPTER TEN

A search party was gathering at the boardwalk in the twilight of the evening. It was cold, and I was wrapped up in a big hooded sweatshirt. Flint was standing next to me, and he didn't seem cold at all. He was too intent on watching everyone who was gathering there.

"There's a certain kind of person who'd be perpetrating crimes like this," he said. "And most likely, it's not someone who even knows these girls, at least not intimately. It may be that he did know his first victim quite well. Often times, that first killing is the result of a fantasy that has played out so many times the killer can't stop himself. But after that first one, he'll be smarter, he'll look for victims who are similar, who allow him to replay that same killing again, but they won't be people connected to him."

"So, if that's the case, it could still be Alastair," I said.

"Yes, it could be. He's definitely still a suspect. But we can't allow ourselves to have tunnel vision about him," said Flint. "It's possible that the killer didn't know any of these victims. That he was smart from the beginning, and that he chose people who weren't connected to him at all. At this point, he's probably on a crazy high, especially if he's also taken this other victim. And he is delighted by the fact that he has pulled the wool over everyone's eyes, that no one knows who he is. But... the feeling fades. The delight doesn't last forever, and to get it back, he has to take bigger risks, thumb his nose at the authorities and still get away with it. If he can pull that off, the emotional reward will be even greater. So, he'll start getting closer to the investigation."

"That's like what you were saying when you thought I was the killer. That I was inserting myself into the investigation."

"Yes, exactly," he said.

"You think the killer is here tonight?"

"It's quite possible."

I pointed. "Alastair is here tonight."

"Yes, I did notice that." He glanced at me. "Don't worry. If Alastair is guilty, we'll find out and we will bring him to justice."

"No, I know that. I'm sorry I keep bringing him up."

"It's because you're too close to him as a possible suspect," said Flint. "You need to take a step back, look at the wider picture."

"Okay," I said. "So, what are we looking for? If the killer didn't know the suspects, then it could be anybody." There were lots of people who'd showed up for this search party who didn't know Dahlia or the family. They had just come to be good Samaritans. Or maybe because of the news coverage. Maybe it was like touching celebrity.

"Well, we should hone in on white men," said Flint. "Mid-twenties to early thirties. He may be single or married with a family, but he will have shown up for the search party alone. The distraction of trying to keep up appearances for a wife would ruin the excitement for him. And beyond that... I'm just going to watch. There's something about the way he'll move, the way he'll interact with everything. He'll be trying to blend in, but he'll be separate."

"What?" I said.

"He'll be play-acting, and it will be subtle, but possible to see. You know the way that people sound different when they're actually being interviewed versus when they're pretending to be interviewed? When you watch one of those horror films that's pretending to be a documentary, even if no one tells you it's not a documentary, you can hear the difference in the way they speak. It will be like that."

"What?" I said again.

Flint shrugged. "I'll know it when I see it. Trust me. I'm good at this."

So, we stood in the dark, on the edge and watched as the people came through and were organized into different groups.

Flint was quiet. Sometimes, he made notes on his phone, but he didn't say anything aloud.

When I asked him questions, he was dismissive.

"Him? You think him?"

"No, not him," Flint would say, as if it were the most ridiculous idea to ever have crossed my lips.

By the end of the evening, however, he went to the organizers and checked their list of names. He wrote down six or seven names in his phone and said he'd check them out.

I was shivering and ready to go home.

I walked back to the hotel, worried that I'd find Connor hurt again, something else destroyed...

But Connor was behind the counter, looking cheery—if bored due to the lack of the television set.

I went upstairs to my apartment, poured myself a glass of wine, and peered out the window at the dark ocean.

I thought about Dahlia Brooks. Was she still alive?

Or was the killer dumping her body into deep, dark water?

* * *

I awoke to the scraping sound of my balcony door opening. My apartment had a little balcony off the back. There were a set of stairs from the balcony down to the ocean, and I liked it for the easy access to the waves, but hated it because of the lack of security. I always kept that balcony door locked, but Felicity was awful about forgetting to lock it, no matter how I lectured her.

Now, my worst fears were realized.

It was undoubtedly the vampires, back again to wreak havoc on me and mine. If they hurt Connor again, I was going to kill them all.

And I meant it.

It would be worth it if I knew that we were safe.

I got up out of bed, only wearing my pajamas, a pair of silky pants and a little white tank top. Slowly, carefully, so as not to make any noise and tip off the intruder, I made my way over to the door. It was open a crack.

I peered through the crack.

All I saw was the dark, empty hallway of my apartment.

Maybe I was hearing things.

Maybe the door hadn't opened at all?

I was still, listening now.

All I could hear was the pounding of my own heart.

Maybe I had heard the door open, but it had just been Felicity coming back in from a late-night swim.

Of course, Felicity wasn't sleeping here anymore, in favor of spending all her time with Jensen the vampire. The one time I'd run into her, she hadn't spoken to me. Admittedly, I hadn't said anything either. I knew I needed to apologize, but it was a really hard thing to do, because I was only looking out for her. It wasn't as if I had said those things because I wanted to hurt her.

Anyway, it was too cold outside for a swim. It wasn't Felicity.

Movement.

Someone walking down the hallway.

I stepped back from the door.

It wasn't a vampire.

The door to my bedroom was pushed open from the outside.

I stumbled backwards, wanting an exit, wanting to hide in the closet, to dive out the window.

Alastair entered the room. "Penny," he breathed.

Where the heck was my talisman? I hadn't been wearing it to sleep, and that was idiotic. In the future, I would never take it off. If I made it through this meeting, that is. If I didn't allow Alastair to take me back to his home, to his bed.

Oh, God, he looked good. "What are you doing here?" I licked my lips.

"The guy at your front desk wouldn't let me in. He said you were sleeping," said Alastair. "But I had to see you."

My breasts felt heavy, and there was a tingling feeling between my legs. It was growing and spreading, a pleasant sweetness. "That's the whole reason you're here in Sea City. For me. You hate the ocean."

"No," said Alastair. "I came because of Elizabeth. She said I should spend some time away from the rat race. I've been working remotely from that house she decorated. It's godawful to look at, but she just laughs when I tell her that she has terrible taste."

Elizabeth was Alastair's sister. I had never much liked her. But she did know how to stand up to him, I would give her that.

You know how to stand up to him, I told myself. You left him.

But I didn't want to stand up to him. I wanted to tackle him and rip off his shirt, bare his flat, hard stomach, put my lips all over his warm, warm skin. I sighed.

He stepped closer to me. "Penny, whatever happened between us—"

"You need to leave," I whispered. I rolled my head on my shoulders. God, I was turned on. It felt so good, and I remembered how good it had always been with Alastair. Orgasms like fireworks behind my eyes. The sweet invasion of his thick shaft, prodding its way into my body. Augh. I shut my eyes.

"I want you," he said in a husky voice. "And you want me. I can see the way you're looking at me, baby."

"Don't call me that."

He closed the distance between us, and one of his hands came up slowly. He stroked my cheek with his knuckles.

It was the whisper of a touch, but it send earthquakes through me. My legs felt weak.

"That hungry little look you get is so sexy," he murmured.

"Shut up," I gasped. I tried to lift my hands and push him away, but I didn't.

"Is your pussy still hungry for me?"

"Stop it," I said, my body clenching on itself. I wanted him. I wanted him to push me down on my bed, strip off my clothes, spread my legs, and drive himself into me over and over again.

"My hungry little slut," he said. "You could never get enough of my big cock."

The dirty talk usually got me going—at least it used to. There had been something dangerous and exciting about the way he called me dirty names.

But this time, maybe for the first time ever, I heard the way his voice changed around the words. I heard the contempt he felt for me. It wasn't a kinky little game for him. It was true. He thought he owned me. He thought that I was his personal property, and I existed only to give him pleasure.

Well, screw that.

I brought my hands up now, and I placed my palms on his chest. I shoved him as hard as I could.

He staggered backwards. He was stronger than me, solid and large, so it shouldn't have made much difference, but he must have been surprised.

"Get out," I said in a hoarse voice.

"Wait a second, Penny."

"No," I said. "I don't want you anywhere near me anymore."

"That isn't true. I know how badly you want me. I can see it. I can smell it."

"No." I sucked in air, filling my lungs, puffing out my chest, challenging him.

"You little bitch, you can't just tease me like that." He was coming for me again, reaching out with one hand to deliver the slap I knew was coming.

And I raised my palms and let my magic surge out of my body, stopping him in his tracks.

His eyes widened.

"Don't you touch me ever again," I said.

"Penny."

"No," I said. And then I hurled him backwards, slamming his body into the wall behind him.

He grunted.

I let him slide down the wall to floor.

He started to get his feet.

I used my magic to slam him back down. "Don't get up," I said. "If you get up, it means you want more. Do you want more?"

"What are you doing?" he said, a nasty smile on his face.

"Didn't expect me to fight back?"

"You don't stand a chance against me," he said.

The truth was, my magic wasn't as strong as it could be. I barely had anything left after breathing that bolt of fire the other night, and now I was going toe-to-toe with Alastair. But he wasn't really fighting back, and it wasn't because he didn't want to hurt me, I knew that much. "If you had magic, you'd have already used it." I couldn't count the number of times he'd burned me when we were together. "You haven't shifted lately, have you?"

"I'm going easy on you," he said. "I'm a changed man."

"Right, that's why I had to stop you from slapping me," I said.

"Please, Penny." He made his face contrite. "I promise only to touch you with respect and love from now on. Come home."

"Never," I said. Using my magic, I picked up a lamp from the bedside table and sent it hurling across the room, straight for his head.

His eyes widened.

And then the lamp shattered against his forehead.

He slumped over, unconscious.

I got my phone and called Connor at the front desk. "Get up here," I said. "We've got to haul my ex out of here before he wakes up."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"Hey," said Felicity's voice.

I looked up from my desk in my office to see Felicity in the doorway. I didn't spend a lot of time in this office, but it was helpful for when I needed to meet with people for job interviews or to do paperwork and money stuff.

She stepped inside. "Uh, Connor told me that Alastair showed up last night."

I was on my feet, coming towards her. "I need to apologize for the other evening at dinner."

She shifted on her feet."Yeah, that would be good. But first, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said.

"Were you wearing your talisman?"

"No, I fought him off without it. It's as if his hold on me is getting less and less powerful."

Her face burst into a big smile. "That's so great. I know you were worried that if he ever found you—"

"I'm strong now."

"Yeah. You are."

"And about the dinner with Jensen."

She folded her arms over her chest. "You were way out of line."

"I was absolutely out of line."

"You don't even know him."

"No, I don't."

"You should get to know him before you make sweeping judgments about his character," she said.

"You are absolutely right, and I'm very, very sorry."

She nodded. "Well. You should be."

"And I am."

She sighed. "Just... try not to be a bitch from here on out."

"It's only that I care about you—"

"That sounds like an excuse." She put her finger in my face.

I hung my head. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Really."

"Good," she said. "You should be." Then she softened. "But I'm really glad you're okay, and I don't want to fight anymore." She held out her arms. "Hug?"

We hugged.

After a moment, we released.

I grinned at her. "Hey, you think you can pry yourself away from your fangboy later on? I want to talk to you and Connor about something."

"Don't call him fangboy."

"Sorry."

She narrowed her eyes. "You don't sound sorry."

"I am."

She sighed. "I'll be here."

* * *

Connor was drinking coffee, since he'd just woken up. It had been a much warmer day today, and we were sitting outside on the patio behind the hotel.

I was looking down at the empty pool, wondering if we should have it filled early. It had already been in the mid-seventies a few days this week and maybe it was going to get warm early this year.

"What's going on?" Connor said.

"Let's wait for Felicity," I said. "I'll tell you guys both then."

He nodded. He yawned.

Felicity opened the back door. "Here you are. I've been looking for you guys everywhere."

"I told Lisa at the front desk to let you know we were out here."

"Did you?" said Felicity. "Or did you just mean to tell her?"

I furrowed my brow. I was fairly sure I had told her. Well, it didn't matter anyway. Felicity was here.

Felicity sat down next to Connor. "So, what's up?"

I sat down with them. "Look, this vampire problem is getting out of hand. They came in and hurt Connor, and I don't know when they're going to strike next. We need to do something."

"You're friends with that police detective," said Felicity. "Maybe he's got friends on the force who could help us out."

"I don't get the impression he's very popular, actually," I said. "And anyway, if the police could have done anything about the vamps, they would have done something by now. What kind of weapons could they use against them? Guns?" As long as vampires had some kind of blood in them, they healed pretty fast. The only ways to kill vamps were to cut off their heads and to burn them alive. The stake in the heart thing worked okay. As long as you didn't take out the stake. But then, no creature was really doing a lot of moving around with a big object implanted in their hearts, dragons included.

"Good point," said Connor. "But what can we do against them?"

"Well, we'll need magic," I said.

They both raised their eyebrows.

"Seriously?" said Felicity. "The only way that I have magic is to eat the flesh of a dragon, and there's no way you're suggesting that I do that."

"Of course not," I said. "There are ways we can get magic without disrespecting dragons. How do you think I got that talisman I wear to block my feelings for Alastair."

"I never thought about it," said Connor.

"I always assumed you were desperate and you bought something on the black market," said Felicity. "I never asked, because I thought it was probably too painful for you to talk about."

"I would never do that," I said. "You can't have honestly believed—"

"I guess not," said Felicity. "It bugged me."

"So, how'd you get the talisman?" said Connor.

"When dragons die, we shift into our dragon form for the very end. And then there's a ceremony by which all the parts of our bodies are carefully preserved and put in the family vault for our offspring to use in the coming years."

"You loot your own corpses?" Felicity looked shocked.

"It's not like that," I said. "It's something we give freely to help out those that come after us." Although I realized that I wasn't sure who I was going to leave my body to.

Felicity made a face.

"I don't think it sounds any worse than organ donation," said Connor. "I think it's kind of cool. So, your talisman is made from pieces of your family, then? That's awesome. It's like they're looking after you from the afterlife."

"Yeah," I said. "It's comforting."

He smiled.

Felicity wrinkled up her nose. "I guess if you look at it that way..."

"Anyway," I said, "tomorrow night, we're going to sneak into my family's vault and get what we need to make all of us powerful enough to stop the vampires."

"Cool," said Connor. "So, the next time they show up, I'll be ready."

I shook my head. "No, we're taking the fight to them. After we're through with them, they'll never come back. They'll never bother us again."

CHAPTER TWELVE

"I, um, brought you some coffee," I said to Flint, setting the cardboard cup down on his desk. "But I didn't know how you liked it, so I brought... stuff." I pulled a handful of sugars, three plain creamers, three French Vanilla creamers, three Irish Creme creamers, and three Hazelnut creamers out of my purse and dumped them on his desk.

He sat back in his chair. "Thank you." He picked up the coffee and took a drink of it black.

"So, this was unnecessary?" I said, pointing to the sugar and creamers.

"It was very nice of you," he said.

I reached for them. "I'll get these out of your way."

"No, leave them," he said. "I might get in the mood for sugar." He opened a desk drawer and swept them all inside. The desk drawer looked empty.

I pulled it back open, just to be sure. "Don't you have anything in your desk?"

He shut the drawer. "Why would I? All our files are digital these days. I try to be efficient."

I guessed that was true.

But his desk was so... bare. Other desks had pictures on them, had little knick knacks. Flint didn't even have a pen holder.

"I was actually a little worried that I was going to be here so early that you wouldn't be here," I said. It was a little after seven in the morning. "I don't usually get up this early, but I woke up around five, and I couldn't get back to sleep."

He sipped the coffee. "Sorry about that."

"Do you always come in this early?"

"Not that it isn't good to see you, Ms. Caspian, but is there a reason you're here?"

I took a drink of my own coffee, which had plenty of sugar and a mix of Hazelnut and French Vanilla creamers in it. "I just... well, the last time I saw you, you had this list of people that you were looking into, because you thought maybe that one of them might be the killer, and I was just wondering where you were with that?"

"Ah," he said. "Curious about the case?"

"I..." It wasn't as if I didn't have enough to think about. What with Alastair coming over and the vampires and fighting with Felicity, I was definitely busy. But I was curious. I thought about the case all the time. "Yeah, I guess so. You said that stuff about me being a sounding board, but then you didn't call me again."

"Well, most of what I've been doing has been very boring elimination work. Going through names and finding out that they weren't even in the area during the time of the crimes, that sort of thing. And then there were a few I went to interview, but I eliminated them. None of them were magical creatures, so I figured I wouldn't take up your time with that."

"Oh, you could have, though," I said. "I mean, I'm available most of the time, and if you give me a little notice, I can usually come along."

"You're eager to catch the killer."

"Yeah."

"Because it might be your ex, and you'd like to see him behind bars."

"Well, that would be nice," I said. "I guess that's part of it."

"There's more?" He raised his eyebrows.

"I just want to help," I said.

"Do you." It didn't sound like a question.

I took a drink of my coffee. "I didn't think you suspected me anymore."

"Did I say I suspected you?"

I twisted my hands together.

His gaze bored into me, and his eyes seemed particularly penetrative.

I was seized with the desire to unburden myself, to start spilling all my darkest secrets to him. It wasn't the first time I'd felt that around him. I fidgeted, feeling nervous.

"Ms. Caspian?" he said in a soft, soothing voice.

Suddenly, words were coming out of my mouth. "I, uh, I was pregnant a few times. That happens with dragons a lot. Not carrying to full term. I... lost them, the babies."

His hand tightened on his coffee cup and the lid came loose. "I'm sorry," he said in a low voice, readjusting the lid.

"Yeah." I was washed away by the memory of it for a minute. The knowledge of having been pregnant, and then the life inside me being gone. My chest felt tight.

"I really am sorry," he murmured. "You don't have to—"

"When the doctor told me, all three times, I just remember being sad, of course, but there was also... this rage." I couldn't stop talking now. I turned the coffee cup in my hands. "But, of course, there was no one to blame. It just... happened. And I thought if... when the parents of these girls heard the news, they'd probably feel that rage too, but there would be someone to blame. But they wouldn't be able to do anything about it. Because they don't know who did it. So..." Belatedly, tears were filling my eyes, even though the most painful part of the recollection had passed. "I want to know who did it. For the parents. Or maybe for me. I don't know. I just... I want to find out."

Flint wouldn't look at me. He took the lid off his coffee, and then he put it back on.

We were quiet.

Finally, he raised his gaze to mine. His eyes looked shiny. "I'm very sorry for your loss," he said quietly.

"It was a long time ago," I said. "And it's better, maybe, not to have had a child with Alastair." That was what I tried to tell myself, anyway, although I couldn't quite believe it. The world could only have been better with my babies in it. And when I found the courage to leave him, because I would have, no matter what, I would have rescued them too.

"Sometimes you have to tell yourself things like that." His voice wasn't strong.

I cocked my head. Something had happened to him, hadn't it? Had he lost someone?

He cleared his throat. "Well, anyway, I'm down to two suspects, and I've saved the magical creatures for last, so that you could accompany me to interview them. Well, one of them is human, but he runs a strip club that specializes in drakes and gargoyles."

I made a face. "Drake strippers?"

He shrugged. "Takes all kinds to make the world go round. The other one is a drake, apparently reformed and off the dragon meat. He runs a halfway house for magical teenagers and young people."

"And you suspect these guys just because they fit the profile?"

"Well, the stripper owner may have some kind of fetish for magic. Maybe he has violent sexual fantasies, and he wanted to act them out on the dragon girls. And the drake, I don't know, he seems like a nice guy, pillar of the community and all that, but a lot of times, these killers, they hide who they truly are. So, the drake works with young people, and all the victims are young women. Maybe that's how he has access to his victims."

"Okay," I said. "That makes sense."

"It's a little early for interviews, though," he said, taking a swig of his coffee. "You had breakfast yet?"

"We should head over to the Pink Flamingo Cafe," I said. "My friend owns it."

"Sounds good," he said.

* * *

Breakfast was uneventful, but as we were leaving, Felicity came into the restaurant. I introduced her to Flint.

"So," she said, "you're the detective I keep hearing so much about."

"I guess so," he said. "I, on the other hand, haven't heard anything about you."

Felicity turned to me, lips pressed together.

"I don't talk to him about my personal life," I said. "We just talk about the suspects and things."

Flint shook her hand. "Anyway, it's very nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," she said.

After we left the restaurant and got into Flint's car, he put on his sunglasses and said, "Why didn't you tell me your best friend was a drake?"

"It never came up," I said, feeling defensive. Sure, Felicity was a drake, but she wasn't like the crazy addicts that were always stealing car stereos to sell and make money for dragon meat.

"You pick up strays, hmm?" he said.

"Strays?"

"Like the gargoyle."

"They aren't pets," I said. "Just because you're human, doesn't mean that you can treat those of us who are magical like animals."

"Whoa." He held up his hands in surrender. "Poor choice of words on my part. I definitely don't think of magical creatures that way, I promise."

I let out a breath. "I'm very protective of her."

"She's able to keep her addiction to dragon at bay, I suppose?" he said.

"She eats a lot of other meat," I said. "And she's never really had it, except for the first time. The time that changed her. She says it's easier to resist something she doesn't remember much about."

"Well, so it's possible, then," said Flint. "For a drake to go straight and narrow. Because if this drake we're going to see were the killer, maybe he'd be doing it for the meat."

"But he kills in human form," I said. "And why would he ditch the bodies? Wouldn't he keep the dragon for later?" I felt my stomach churn.

"Yeah, probably," said Flint. "Let's go see the stripper owner first, then." He stuck his keys into the ignition.

We were off.

On the ride there, I kept trying to think of something to say to Flint, but I couldn't think of anything. I felt odd after having exposed my emotions so baldly earlier with my story about my miscarriages. The truth was, I had hardly even been aware of how much the past was motivating me until I found myself saying it out loud. I knew that I was struck deeply by the thoughts of the girl's parents hearing about the death of their child, but I hadn't put it together, not really.

It was because I didn't like to think about the miscarriages.

People say things about loss. They say that you get over it.

It isn't true.

What you do is find ways to stop thinking about it.

It happened when my parents died too. At first, right after they were gone, every thing in the world reminded me of them. But slowly, over time, I managed to keep myself from thinking of them when I came through the front door or when I went to bed at night. I rewired my brain so that I could function, and I avoided the pain. That was what I had done with the loss of my babies too. I just didn't think about it. If I didn't think about it, it couldn't hurt.

And so, I had "gotten over it." But not really. Because if I did allow myself to think about it, the pain all came rushing back, just as fresh and as bright as if it had all happened yesterday.

So, suddenly, I felt raw.

And I wasn't even sure why I'd shared that with Flint. I couldn't figure him out. He was so closed off, but it seemed like there was more to him. He just wasn't about to let me see what that was. He was armored and cool, and I didn't know who he was. Not really.

So, why had I trusted him with one of my most painful secrets?

I knew better than that.

Never show weakness.

Damn it.

At any rate, I couldn't think of anything to say to him.

He didn't say anything either.

We drove in silence.

The strip club was located on the outskirts of town, because Sea City was supposed to have a family atmosphere—not that it really did with the roving gangs of vampires and crazy drakes, but that was the ideal, anyway.

It was a squat little building, unremarkable except for the neon sign that said, Exotic Magical Girls!

The sign, however, was not lit up, because it was morning time.

"Is anyone even here?" I said.

"We'll see," said Flint. "If he's not, we'll go to his home."

We went around back and Flint knocked on a door marked, Employees Only.

A man opened it right away. He was short and balding with a handlebar mustache. "Who are you? You're not my beer shipment."

"Afraid not," said Flint. He showed his badge. "Are you Killian Henderson?"

"Yeah. So?"

"I'm Detective Lachlan Flint. This is my associate Penny Caspian. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

Killian got a wary look in his eyes. "About what?"

"It's regarding some murders," said Lachlan. "The reporters are calling them the Dragon Slasher killings."

Killian drew back. "What would I know about that?"

"Do you know anything about that?"

"No, I don't."

"Can we come in?"

Killian stepped outside. "Can't we just talk out here?"

"Suit yourself," said Flint. "You went to help out with the search party for Dahlia Brooks?"

"Yeah," said Killian. "So?"

"Are you acquainted with Miss Brooks?"

"No, I was just there to be a concerned citizen."

"You find the plight of a girl like her to be of specific interest to you?"

"Well, a little bit," said Killian. "I mean, she's a dragon, and my girls who work here are all magical, you know? They're drakes and gargoyles, and what if this psycho starts going after them? That would be really bad for them. So, I want to help out."

"I see," said Flint. He waited.

As if galvanized by the silence, Killian kept talking. "I think it might be a hate crime, see? You know that group, the Brotherhood? What do they call themselves? Uh... Humans for a Wholesome Tomorrow. HWT. Those guys? They hate dragons. They hate them the worst, 'cause they started all this magic business. So, it seems to me that they might be doing this. You should really be looking into them. Not me. There's no reason to look into me."

"Did we say we were looking into you?" said Flint mildly.

"You are, aren't you?" Killian's eye twitched.

"You seem to be a bit defensive about all of this," Flint noted.

Killian's nostrils flared. "Defensive? Who wouldn't be? You walk up here, ambush me in the early morning and start making accusations. But there's no reason for you to think that I did this. No reason at all."

"I haven't made one single accusation," said Flint.

"You haven't?"

Both Flint and I shook our heads.

Killian took a deep breath, let it out, and put his hands into his pockets.

Flint tried a smile. "Do you ever have interactions with the girls in your club? Interactions of a... sexual nature?"

"I'm married. Happily. So no. Anyway, I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"How did you meet your wife?" said Flint.

Killian coughed. "Well, she used to be a dancer here, but what does that matter?"

"Your wife is human?"

"She's a drake. Are we going somewhere with this? Because if anyone's saying that I been buying dragon meat on the black market for her, then they are lying, because I would never do something like that."

"Do you know Othello?"

"He someone I should know?"

"It's a play," said Flint. "By William Shakespeare."

Killian looked as confused by this turn in conversation as I was.

"It's a play about a black man in the fifteenth century, who goes against society, and at great personal risk to himself marries a white noblewoman. She is ostracized from her family, and she has no one but Othello. But they haven't been married for very long before someone convinces Othello that she's being unfaithful to him. And Othello, though it isn't true, proves remarkably easy to convince. He goes from being devoted to the woman to strangling her to death in a very short span of time."

We were all quiet.

Killan furrowed his brow. "Uh, okay."

"The point," said Flint, "is that there is often a very thin line between love and hate. If you love exotic women, then maybe you also hate them. And that is why you're a person of interest in this case. Don't leave town."

* * *

"No, I never did meet her," said Anthony Barnes. He was a drake, but his mutation seemed to be minimal. His face looked human except for his eyes, which had a subtle ring of red around the iris. His hands were covered in red scales, but he didn't have any claws or spikes. "We have had a few dragons come through our shelter, but not many. They would be welcome, of course, but I think there are less troubled dragon youth than other magical creatures. It's the same with gargoyles. They have strong family units and we rarely see them here. We serve young people who find themselves transformed into drakes or vampires and young people who have been caught using dragon artifacts and talismans to do magic and subsequently kicked out of their homes. That's the kind of work we do."

Flint and I were sitting opposite Anthony in his office in the shelter where he worked.

"If you didn't know her," Flint said, "why did you join the search party?"

Anthony furrowed his brow. "Well, knowing her wasn't required, was it?"

"I'm just curious."

Anthony suddenly let out a little nervous laugh. "Oh, I get it." He raised a red-scaled finger. "I'm a psychologist, after all. You're here because I'm a single man with no attachments who could be trying to get close to the investigation, aren't you?" He breathed out noisily. "You think I'm the killer, don't you?"

"This is simply an interview," said Flint.

Anthony pushed back from the desk. "Well, I don't know what I can tell you, because when I look at it, it could all be twisted around. If I protest that I'm innocent, maybe I sound defensive. But if I don't, then I seem guilty. So, I don't know what to say. I could point to all the community work that I've done over the years, but that might look like a cover. As if I've been using this job to get to my prey. And who knows? You might go looking into all the kids who come to this shelter and then disappear, never to be seen again, and then conclude that I've been working up to dragons, that I started with these kids..." His voice was suddenly full of emotion, and he got up, putting his back to us.

"Mr. Barnes," said Flint. "I have not intimated in any way that you were guilty."

It was interesting that both of our suspects today were leaping to conclusions. Of course, I guessed they were both right. They were suspects.

I thought about how I had had felt when Flint had accused me of the crime. I squirmed. Neither of their defensive reactions proved anything, I realized.

"I'm sorry," he said thickly. "It's only that I love these kids, and thinking of them being hurt is too hard." He turned back around. "I don't know how to convince you that I live for this. That all I've ever wanted to do was help people."

"Sit back down," said Flint.

Anthony shook his head. "I don't think I can." He rubbed his forehead. "Oh my God, I'm going to have to get a lawyer. How am I going to pay for a lawyer?"

"Mr. Barnes, please try to calm down." Flint's voice had gone all soothing and soft.

Anthony let out another noisy breath. "Okay. Okay." He shut his eyes.

"Now, you didn't know Dahlia?"

"No, I didn't."

"Or the other victims? Sophia Ward? Elena Watson?"

He shook his head. "No, none of them." He sat down. "For what it's worth, I joined the search party because I want that girl to be found, alive. There are a lot of terrible things that happen in the world. A lot of good things too, but a lot of terrible things. There are wars and religious persecutions and drug addiction and diseases and global warming and the list goes on. There's no way that one person could fix all of those things. But you know what makes me crazy? Most people don't even try to help fix one of those things. I'm trying to do my part, though. And so I do what I can. I try to help magical teens who need me."

"I understand that," said Flint. "You may not believe this, but what I'm trying to do is help make the world a better place too."

Anthony surveyed him. "No, of course I believe that. You're a civil servant. You try to keep people safe. I suppose we understand each other, then."

"I think so," said Flint, smiling.

"Well, then, I'm going to try not to be too nervous." Anthony smiled too. "I'm a good man, and if you investigate that, you'll find it to be true. I think you'll realize that fairly quickly. I didn't hurt those girls."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Flint massaged the bridge of his nose. "So, we can't eliminate either of them yet."

"No?" I said. "I mean, the drake guy, he seemed pretty on the level, didn't he?"

"Maybe it was all an act," said Flint. "He admitted to us that he was a psychologist. And if he were, in fact, a psychopath, he might be quite drawn to that field of study in order to be better at faking empathy."

"Oh," I said. I hadn't thought of that. "Well, the stripper owner just seemed shady."

"He's probably not the killer," said Flint. "He doesn't seem smart enough to pull it off. But again, that could be an act. It could all be quite calculated."

"I thought they both kind of reacted the same way," I said.

"You can't put much stock in the reactions," said Flint. "Guilty people and innocent people don't act markedly different when being accused of a crime. Sometimes very stupid guilty people will become very chatty and spill a big, concocted story. But innocent people also get nervous. So, there's really nothing we can draw from that."

"I guess I just..." I inspected my fingers. "I was thinking about Felicity. If I hadn't been around for her, I would want a place like that around. Like that shelter. I'd want someone to try to help her. Is it crazy to think that there are people out there who just want to help people?"

"Of course not," said Flint.

"It's just that sometimes you seem to take a dim view of humanity."

He laughed. "Really? That's how I come across to you?"

"You think you should come across a different way?"

"We're investigating serial murder, Ms. Caspian. That's a dim filter to be looking through."

I nodded. "I guess you're right."

"You want to come back to the office with me and help me make notes on the whiteboard about our suspects?"

"Actually, I've got something I need to do this evening," I said. "I've got to prepare."

"Suit yourself," he said. "I want you to know, however, you're missing a very good time."

* * *

"I don't see why we had to park three blocks away," said Connor, who was lagging behind Felicity and me, clutching a cardboard coffee cup. He had just woken up, since the sun had gone down only fifteen minutes ago. He was cranky.

I'd brought him in the car as a statue, which meant I'd had to have him half in the trunk and half in the back seat. We'd driven up to Connecticut, where the burial vault for the Caspian clan was located. It had taken about five hours to drive up here, and I couldn't wait until Connor woke up to leave.

We were all walking up the sidewalk from the place we had parked.

"I told you to ditch that coffee cup," I said. "If you spill coffee on the remains of my ancestors—"

"I'm not going to bring it into the vault," he muttered.

"You think there's just going to be a little spot to leave it outside the door?"

"Maybe a trash can?" he said.

I glared at him.

He stopped and gulped down the rest of the coffee as fast as he could. Then he crumpled the cardboard cup. "Is there a trash can out here?"

"Just leave it," I said.

"You want me to litter?" he said.

I groaned.

Felicity laughed. "What about the planet, Penny?"

"Look, it's got to be better for the planet to litter than it is to shove stuff in plastic bag and bury it in a landfill. If you just leave it here, it will totally biodegrade."

Connor considered. "Maybe you're right." He tossed the coffee cup.

I pointed. "We're cutting through here."

"What?" said Connor. "That's like the woods. It looks like there might be briar bushes."

I sighed. "There's no woods left in Connecticut. It's like twenty feet of woods. Come on." I started off the sidewalk, up a slight incline and between the dark shadows of the trees.

Felicity and Connor followed me.

In was dark under the cover of the branches, even though most of them were still bare. A few had buds, but no leaves.

Dead leaves crunched under our feet, though.

I went slowly until my eyes adjusted, hoping that Connor wasn't right about briars.

Overhead, the sound of a night bird calling.

"Why are we in the woods?" Connor whispered.

"It's behind the cemetery," I whispered back. "We're sneaking in from the back."

"Why are we whispering?" whispered Felicity.

"So that no one hears us," said Connor. "Right, Penny?"

"Right," I said.

"What happens if someone does?" said Felicity. "What happens if we get caught doing this?"

"Well, when I left Alastair, my grandparents told me that I was dead to them and that they never wanted to see my face again," I said. "So, I imagine they wouldn't be pleased I was looting our ancestors remains," I said. "They'd probably have us arrested and press charges."

"Seriously?" said Felicity.

"Well, that's why we're not going to get caught," I said.

Ahead of us, the woods were already starting to thin out, and the cemetery was coming into view between the tree trunks. Rows of head stones gleamed in the moonlight, dotting rolling hills.

"Whoa," breathed Connor. "That's a big cemetery."

"Where's your family's vault?" said Felicity.

I pointed. "It's just over that hill. You can see the spire sticking out of the top."

"The one shaped like a cross?" said Connor.

"I think it's the one in the shape of a dragon," said Felicity.

"Yeah," I said.

Between us and the vault, there were a lot of graves and two stately oak trees, their bare branches dark against the night sky.

We all paused at the edge of the woods.

I looked at both of them. "Okay, this place closes at dusk, so there shouldn't be anyone here, except maybe a night watchman. So, we're just going to walk quickly and quietly over to that tree there." I pointed. "Got it?"

They both nodded.

I took a deep breath, the air chilly in my lungs. It was different here, away from the heaviness of the ocean air. It used to be home, but I couldn't say that I missed it.

I went first, and they flanked me.

I went in between the graves, doing my best not to trample on too many of them. But it was inevitable at some point.

The grass was blue-black in the darkness. It was springy under my feet, freshly cut, even though it was early enough in the year that it couldn't have been that tall in the first place.

We reached the oak tree, a thick, shadowy hulking shape in the darkness. Its trunk was at least three feet across, and we could all stand in its shadow.

We stopped there together, and I peered around the trunk out at the rest of the cemetery.

I could see the vault better now. The doors were surrounded by stone bas relief sculpture of flames and flying dragons. The doors themselves were tall and metal, and they came to a point in the center where they would open.

The path there led us through more graves. Some had rounded headstones, others rectangular. A few scattered stone crosses were mixed in as well.

There was a gleaming white stone path winding through them, but the path wouldn't take us anywhere near the vault. It was flanked by a few white stone benches here and there, the backs made of wrought iron painted white. The iron twisted and twirled, cast into the images of roses and leaves.

"Okay," I said. "Do you guys see it?"

"It's pretty big," said Connor.

"It's been in use since the 1700s," I said. "Ever since the Caspian family came to America."

"Cool," said Connor. He started forward.

"Connor, wait." I said.

He turned to look at me.

And that was when he tripped over a root—one of those big, gnarly roots that sometimes sticks up from the ground surrounding an old, big tree. It was half-covered in grass and difficult to see.

He tripped, and he went tumbling over a gray, square headstone that said Beloved Mother and Sister on it in carved script.

And his foot caught the headstone, and it toppled over.

And landed on his other foot.

And he howled in shock and pain.

The sound echoed through the entire graveyard, bouncing off the tree limbs, the other gravestones, the moon in the sky.

It was as if everything shook with the sound of it.

And then was still.

Felicity and I rushed over to Connor.

He was trying to push the headstone off himself. "Sorry," he said. "It hurt."

I drew up a bit of magic and forced it out, lifting the headstone and putting it back in place.

Connor clutched his foot, groaning softly.

I knelt down next to him. "Are you okay?"

"Mmmph," he said.

Damn it.

Felicity stood over us, looking around.

"Can you stand?" I said to Connor.

"Yeah, give me a second, I'll be fine," he said.

"It didn't sound like you were fine," said Felicity.

"I'm a gargoyle," he said. "I'm made of stone." He turned to me. "Help me up."

I got to my feet and offered him a hand.

He clutched it.

I hauled him to his feet.

He planted his hurt foot on the ground and stood still for a minute. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" I said.

He took a step. He winced.

"Connor, maybe you should wait for us in the woods," I said.

"Um, Penny?" said Felicity.

"What?" I said.

She pointed. "We've got company."

The night watchman was hurrying down the white stone path, his flashlight bobbing.

"Damn it," I muttered. I grabbed Connor by the arm and dove back behind the big oak tree.

Felicity came with us.

For several minutes, we didn't say anything. We just sat there, huddled behind the tree, kneeling there and trying not to breathe too loud.

"You think he saw us?" Connor whispered.

"Shh!" said Felicity and I together.

We waited.

I looked up at the sky, watched a cloud passing over the moon, and thought about what shape it was. Thing was, it didn't much resemble anything except a cloud. The moon wasn't full, but it was on its way there, at least I was pretty sure it was.

There was some trick to figure out whether it was waxing or waning, and it involved drawing a line on one side of the moon. If it made a small B, then it was being "born," and if it made a small D, it was "dying."

But the small B looked like a capital D, and that was why I always got confused.

The moon itself seemed a silvery color, like spun, shining metal hung in the sky.

My legs were getting cramped up from kneeling like this.

I wanted to look around the tree, see if I could see the night watchman. But what if he saw us that way?

On the other hand, if he was coming for us, we should know. That way, we could head for the woods.

But even then, I wasn't sure we could do that without being seen.

Damn it. Damn it all to hell. I didn't know what we were going to do.

I shot a glance at Connor, who was making a face.

Geez, I really hoped he hadn't badly hurt himself.

I wasn't even sure why I'd dragged them both into this, anyway. I could have probably done this on my own, without their help. True, it would be helpful to have them near the artifacts, because the bone and scale would speak to me and tell me which would be a better fit for each of them. But I could have gotten something that would have worked.

All this risk wasn't worth it.

Man, my legs hurt.

I looked back up at the moon.

I should look to see if the watchman was around.

No. No, that was a bad idea.

I looked down at the ground.

There were a string of tiny black ants crawling over a blade of grass. Their small, segmented bodies glistened, almost as if they were made from drops of black water.

Ants? At night?

Had I ever seen ants at night?

Weren't ants daytime creatures?

Maybe they were odd, nocturnal, gargoyle ants. Maybe in the day, they turned to stone.

Gah. This was ridiculous.

My legs were screaming at me. I had to shift position.

I didn't. I shut my eyes and tried to distract myself from it.

I needed to look around the damned tree.

Next to me, Felicity moved a little, settling her weight around the tree trunk.

The noise of her movement sounded deafening.

I glared at her.

She made an apologetic face, pointing to her legs.

My own legs felt as if they were being poked with ten thousand hot needles.

I moved too, sitting down on the ground.

I looked around the tree.

The night watchman was no more than five feet away, but his back was to us. He was moving the bright circle of his flashlight over one headstone and then another, moving in a tight circle.

He illuminated a gravestone with quartz embedded in the outline. It shimmered under the flashlight.

Next, his flashlight stopped on a fresh bouquet of flowers. There was a brilliant yellow daffodil and a pink lily. Some carnations. All set in a spray of baby's breath.

He turned, moving the flashlight.

I could see his profile now.

Gulping, I pulled back behind the tree.

My heart had started to pound now, as if I'd been running a marathon.

Felicity looked at me with wide, questioning eyes.

I put my finger to my lips.

Connor shut his eyes.

I leaned my head against the tree.

The flashlight beam was coming for us.

I could see it traveling slowly over the grass. When it touched the blades, they glowed golden-green.

It came closer.

And closer.

We all pressed close, trying to meld ourselves into the tree trunk.

I could hear the sound of my breath, and it was far too loud.

The watchman must be able to hear us.

The beam of light skated over my hand.

I yanked it away, realizing too late that I shouldn't have moved, that movement was conspicuous, that it draws the eye.

The watchman was going to march back here and shine that light in our eyes and bark at us and call the police and—

The light went past us.

I heard the watchman start to walk again, and the light was retreating.

I let out a sigh of relief.

But we couldn't say anything yet.

No, we had to stay still and quiet until he had gone completely.

I peered around the tree again.

I watched his back as he headed down toward the path, watching the circle of light grow smaller and smaller.

I pulled back behind the tree.

He was still too close.

I looked down at the ants again. They were still crawling over the blade of grass. There must be thousands of ants in that little line, and they were all so very identical and perfect.

And we waited.

Only when the watchman started whistling to himself did I allow myself to relax.

I slumped against the tree trunk.

"Sorry," said Connor in a tiny voice.

"It's okay," I said. "It was an accident. Are you hurt?"

He shook his head. "No, I feel okay, now."

"Are you sure?" said Felicity. "That thing looked heavy."

"I'm fine." Connor stood up to show us.

I yanked him back down. "Not yet. He could still see us."

"No, he's on the other side of the hill," said Connor, squinting.

Felicity and I looked around either side of the tree trunk.

Sure enough, all we could see of the night watchman was the faint glow of the flashlight in the distance.

"Okay," I whispered. "Let's go." I got to my feet.

Felicity and Connor did too.

Carefully, slowly, we came out from behind the oak tree.

I started forward, walking between the headstones. I took small, even steps, trying to move like a cat in the darkness, liquid and soft. I wasn't sure if I was succeeding, and, anyway, I wondered if it was pointless because I couldn't imagine Connor doing anything gracefully. He was probably going to trip over another headstone.

We went down the hill, through the gravestones.

Then we crossed the white stone path to the next portion of the cemetery.

Here, the gravestones were larger, made of nicer stone, with elaborately carved decorations.

This was the dragon portion of the cemetery.

There were no real rules segregating dragons from everyone else, not even back in the 1700s when the cemetery had first been made. But it seemed that it happened somehow anyway.

Most of the graves here in the center portion of the cemetery were dragon graves.

Of course, even though these dragons had separate headstones, that didn't mean their remains were buried beneath them.

No, they had been put through the same ceremonial process as every other dragon, with their bones, teeth, and scales removed and placed in the family vault.

In some ways, I supposed it was hubris, buying up a whole cemetery plot when you weren't even going to be buried there.

But it was the way of my people.

I liked having headstones for my parents to come and visit.

In fact, we would be going by them in a few minutes. They were near the vault.

But I wouldn't be able to stop and look at them or to talk to them.

I hadn't seen my parents' graves in quite some time, and I was tempted, but there wouldn't be time.

In fact, it would probably be better if I didn't even look at them.

I needed to focus.

Tunnel vision.

Find the vault.

There it was, only about ten feet ahead. It sloped up out of the ground, the tall doors looming over us.

"That's it," I said to Connor and Felicity.

"Does it just open?" said Connor.

"It's sealed by magic," I said. "It opens with fire."

"Fire?" said Felicity. "Isn't that going to be pretty showy? The watchman will see."

I shook my head. "No, it won't take much."

And then we stopped walking, because we were standing right in front of the doors.

I put my hands up against them. The metal was cold and still.

I shut my eyes. I needed to pump the fire into the gates—but not to burn them, to loosen them, bend them, melt them.

It was a delicate balance, and I had only done it once.

Right after I'd run away, I'd come here to get things to make the talisman to protect me against Alastair. At the time, however, I hadn't yet been disowned from my family and banned from the place. I don't think they ever knew that I came here, even so. However, it had been easier to do this in the daylight without worrying about discovery.

I forced myself to relax and to let the magic flow through me.

But when it hit the door, it seemed to fizzle out, as if the door was so cold that it was swallowing the fire whole and freezing it.

I needed to sing with power, a fire song of my people, my family. To speak to the magic of the door and tell it that I belonged, that I was a Caspian.

But... what if I wasn't?

What if, when my grandparents had disowned me, they'd somehow barred me from my family, made it impossible for me to enter.

No.

They couldn't do something like that. I'd never heard of such a thing.

But I'd also never heard of a dragon leaving her mate.

I removed my hands and stepped back.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"What's wrong?" said Felicity.

"I..." I looked at her, feeling frightened. I didn't want to be completely cut off from my line.

"You shifted last night, didn't you?" she said. "You have magic. Or did you use it all setting up that headstone?"

"No, that wouldn't drain me," I said. "I have enough magic."

Connor looked nervous. "But it's not working? We did all this for nothing?"

No.

We couldn't have done this for nothing.

"I'll try again," I murmured, I put my hands up against the cold metal.

Once again, I tried to relax, let the fire flow through me. And once again, when it touched the doors, they seemed to put it out. It was like a hot iron in cold water.

I stepped away.

Felicity was next to me. "What's happening?" she whispered softly, and her voice was all reassurance and friendship.

I gave her a desperate look. "What if my family blocked me? What if they cut me off somehow?"

"They can't," she said.

"What if they can?"

"Doesn't matter. You're stronger than that," she said. "You're the strongest person I know. You got away from Alastair. You can do this."

I remembered the other night, resisting him even without the talisman. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was strong.

I took a deep breath and put my hands on the door again.

This time, when it swallowed my fire, I simply poured more into it.

It took that too.

I concentrated, throwing as much fire magic as I could into the door.

And the metal began to feel warm under my hands.

It glowed orange, then pink.

The doors began to open.

"Whoa," breathed Connor.

As the doors slowly opened of their own accord, I remembered that last time it had taken a good bit of magic too. There was nothing different about the doors. I had just allowed myself to get spooked, that was all. It was hard sometimes. I didn't know how to be a lone dragon.

As far as I knew, there were no other lone dragons in the world.

The doors open, we stepped inside.

I shot a bit of magic out of my fingers, and the doors closed behind us.

Inside, it was dark and musty. It smelled like a cave.

I pushed magic down into my fingers. They glowed. Flames ran over my palms and wrists.

The light from my magic illuminated a long tunnel that delved down into the earth. On either side were metal sculptures—dragon heads. Each was constructed to look like the person had in his or her dragon form. The rows of dragon heads gleamed in the light of my glowing hands.

Connor looked up overhead, his expression wary.

Felicity's mouth was hanging open.

"The oldest dragons are at the front here," I said, gesturing. "Most of their bones and teeth and scales have been plundered by now. As new dragons die, we tunnel down deeper. The latest burials are at the end of the tunnel."

Neither of them said anything.

The older the artifact, the more powerful it was.

That wasn't necessarily true of talismans, though, because they were in use. Once someone started using the magic inside a talisman, it began to deplete it. Even the oldest of artifacts had a finite amount of power.

"All right," I said to Felicity and Connor. "Take my hands." I reached out for them.

"Uh, Penny, your hands are on fire," said Connor.

"It won't burn you," I said. "In fact, it's better if you touch it."

Felicity closed her hand around mine. Immediately, she and I were connected, and I could feel her essence tying itself to mine.

Connor hesitated, but then he took my hand as well.

Now, I could feel both of them. I reached out with my magic, letting it float through the tunnel, searching for the proper artifacts, the ones that would be the strongest and the most useful for each of us.

At first, I felt nothing.

No stirring, no response.

Everything was sleepy and cold.

But then, I got a tendril of warmth. I started in its general direction, and it began to grow stronger.

Another tendril shot through the air, slamming into me.

I stopped, turning to face the dragon sculpture over the collection of artifacts. I read the name on the plaque below the sculpture. "Rufus Caspian," I whispered. "In the spirit of humility and gratefulness, we ask for the gift of your magic."

The magic surged.

I nodded. "It's okay. This is it. It's for you, Connor."

"For me?" he said.

"Yeah," I told him. "I can feel which of these things are meant for each of us."

"Okay," he said, his voice a little shaky.

"I don't have a hand," I said, holding up both of my hands, which were clasped around them. "Can you open the case there?"

"Uh..." Connor took a shaky breath. "Yeah, okay." He reached out and slid the stone lid back.

The cases themselves were about four feet long and two feet wide. Inside, arranged on velvet, were all the bones and teeth and scales of Rufus Caspian. None had yet been taken. "The ribs," I said to Connor. "To protect you like a strong cage."

He gulped. "Pick them up?"

"Yeah, put them in the pack on my back," I said.

"All of them?"

I nodded.

He gulped again, but he did it.

Once we had the ribs, I turned to the other tendril.

We followed it down several more feet until we came to the case and sculpture belonging to Althea Caspian. "In the spirit of humility and gratefulness, we ask for the gift of your magic," I murmured.

The magic surged.

I smiled. "Felicity, can you open it?"

"Sure," she said, and slid the lid off.

Inside, the bones looked as if they had been picked over. But that was okay. I knew what we needed. "The scales for you, Felicity. As protection as well. And for me, two claws."

Felicity carefully reached in and took the things. She put them in my pack as well.

"All right," I said. "I think we have everything we need. Let's turn around."

Still holding hands, the three of us turned and walked back up to the front of the vault.

I shut my eyes, and I let the magic that was burning through me slowly go out, like turning down the gas to a flame. I took one, slow cleansing breath, and then I let go of Felicity and Connor. "Go ahead out," I told them in a soft voice.

They hesitated for a minute, and then they moved past me, through the doors, and out of the vault.

"Thank you," I whispered into the darkness of the crypt. "For your gifts and your guidance, we are humbly grateful."

Then I backed out of the tomb.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I squinted at the whiteboard next to Flint's desk. On it were pictures of the four suspects: Otis Sanders, the slayer, Anthony Barnes, the drake social worker, Brody Ross, the gargoyle, Killian Henderson, the strip-club owner, and Alastair.

Beneath each names were a lot of scribbles, but I couldn't read them. Flint's handwriting left something to be desired. Maybe I should have come back with him the other afternoon and helped him write on the whiteboard.

He strode across the room with two styrofoam cups. When he reached the desk, he set them both down. "Sorry, the coffee they make here isn't quite like the stuff you brought me the other day."

I picked up my cup, which was obviously mine since it contained cream. I took a small drink. "It's fine. The stuff I got the other day was from a convenience store, nothing fancy."

He shrugged, picking up his cup of coffee. He was gazing at the whiteboard. "So, what do you think?"

"I think your handwriting is unreadable," I said.

He took a drink of coffee. "Well, I don't usually bother with this kind of thing. I just look at stuff on my phone. But I've heard that it can be helpful to have a visual representation of your suspects. Besides, they always do it on TV."

I laughed. "And has it helped?"

"I don't know. I feel like we've just been kind of flitting around from one suspect to the other. It's time to double-down and get some of these guys eliminated."

"Okay," I said. "Well, maybe we should rank them in order of how likely we think they are to have done it."

He cocked his head to one side. Then the other. "Yeah, my bottom of the list right now is the gargoyle."

"You think he's least likely?" I said.

"I don't know. We don't know much about him."

"He lied to us."

"Yeah, good point." He sipped his coffee. "Whose your least likely?"

"Uh, the drake," I said. "Anthony Barnes."

"See, he ranks high for me," said Flint. "I'd say he's very likely."

I chewed on my lip. "What about Otis?"

Flint scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, he could have done it. I feel like he's got a lot of rage. And he's skilled at killing things."

"He had a bow and arrow."

"Right, and the wounds were probably made with a knife." Flint sat down at his desk.

"If he did it, why not do it when they're in dragon form and make a profit?" I said. I still felt confused about Otis. Vaguely sorry for him, but also disgusted because he killed my kind for money. He should be locked up for what he did. But that didn't mean I wanted him locked up for this crime, not if he didn't do it.

Flint tapped his chin with his forefinger. "I don't know if this is helping at all." He smiled at me. "Honestly, talking to you about it is helping more than the whiteboard."

"Hey, that reminds me," I said. "Why don't you have a partner? Don't cops have partners?"

He grinned. "Usually."

"But not you?"

He shrugged. "Nah."

"Why not?"

His smile faded. "I don't know. Just better without one." He leaned back in his chair, looking into his coffee cup. "My last partner? Back in Texas? He slept with my wife."

"You have a wife?"

"Not anymore." He sat forward in his chair. "Who's your most likely?"

"Uh, Alastair," I said.

He nodded. "Yeah, me too."

"Really?"

"But I don't like it," he said. "Because with you involved in the investigation, it just makes it all too... pat, you know? Like, if this were classic literature, then sure, I'd buy it was someone from your past. That kind of weird coincidence would be part of some character arc for you. Allowing you to move on from your deep, dark past."

I raised my eyebrows. "I'm beginning to think I'm not the one with a deep, dark past I need to move on from."

He pointed at himself. "Me?"

I shrugged.

He drank more coffee. "We should look harder into Alastair. If we both have a gut on him, it's something we need to pursue."

"Okay," I said. "That's a good place to start."

"I think we should do our most likely and our least likely," he said. "To start with."

"Well, let's go with Brody the gargoyle, then," I said. "He's low on my list."

"All right," said Flint. "Sounds good."

* * *

"You lied to us, Brody," said Flint.

We were inside the foyer of the Ross family home, and Brody was surrounded by his mother and sisters.

The women all gasped and glared at us.

"He did no such thing," said the mother.

Brody looked nervous. "Ma, maybe it would be better if I talked to these guys alone."

"Gina says she never sees you these days," said Flint.

"What?" said Brody's mother. "That doesn't make sense. Whenever I ask where you were, you always say you were with her."

Brody ran his hands over his face. "Oh, crap."

"You've been lying to me, too?" said his mother. "To your own mother?"

"Just let me talk to them." Brody tried to move forward.

His sisters blocked him.

"We don't think so," said one of his sisters.

"Yeah," said another. "It wouldn't be in your best interest to talk to them alone."

"They'll trip you up with all kinds of questions," said a third.

"It's true," said Brody's mother. "You remember that documentary we watched? About all the innocent people on death row?"

"Everyone on death row claims to be innocent," said Flint.

"Well, some of them are," said Brody's mother. "You police, you all want to just find someone to blame as quick as you can. That way you have good numbers and then the officials can say that they are tough on crime. It doesn't matter if it's the right person or not—"

"Hey," said Flint, shaking his head. "Now, I'm not saying that doesn't happen, but I guarantee you, I am not that kind of cop. I don't care about any of that crap. I do this for me. If I'm not satisfied I got the right person, I don't stop. Doesn't matter what anyone else thinks."

"Look, it'll be better if I explain," said Brody.

"You're not talking to them without us present," said his mother.

Flint sighed. "I'm trying to eliminate him, ma'am. Now, he clearly doesn't want to talk in front of you. So, let him talk to me. He can explain to me what's going on, tell me why he lied, and then—"

"He will explain that to me." Brody's mother put her arms over her chest.

Brody shook his head. "Forget it."

"Why would you say you were with Gina when you weren't?" said his mother.

"I just did," said Brody.

"Well, you must have an excuse. What is it?" said his mother.

"Maybe he was off killing dragon girls," said Flint.

"No," said Brody.

"No," said his mother.

"Do you know Keats?" said Flint.

"Who?" said the mother.

"John Keats," said Flint. "British Romantic poet."

"I don't see what romance has to do with anything." Brody's voice was high-pitched.

"Not romance as in love," said Flint. "As in the Romantic movement, which valued emotion and nature?"

Everyone gave him a funny look.

Flint spread his hands. "I was only going to point out that Keats wrote that 'beauty is truth, truth beauty. That is all ye know on earth and all ye need to know.' Truth, Brody. Tell us the truth."

"Stop badgering him," said his mother.

Brody shook his head. "Ma, you are going to get me arrested."

"You get yourself arrested," said his mother. "Why would you lie to your family?"

All of his sisters were shaking their heads at him.

"If you do get arrested," said his mother, "you keep your mouth shut. They will twist everything you say. They will convince you to confess and sign a confession."

Flint shook his head. "We would never—"

"Maybe," said Brody's mother, "it is better if he doesn't answer anymore questions to you, Mr. Policeman. Maybe it is better if he remains silent now."

"No, that's not better," said Flint. "Because that makes me more suspicious, and that means that I've got to do more digging into Brody, and—"

"You do what you have to do," said Brody's mother, angry. "But you get out of my house."

* * *

Flint yanked open the door to his car.

I got in the passenger side.

He slammed the door. "That's some shit."

"What is?"

"That gargoyle family stuff," said Flint. "Hell, who knows? Maybe that Brody guy snapped because his mother and sisters would not get out of his business."

"So, you're thinking maybe it's more likely that he did it?"

"I'm thinking that I have no freaking clue, because I don't know why he lied," said Flint. "And I'm pretty sure he only did lie because he was in front of his mother and sisters."

"Honestly, I think they might have given us the name," I said. "They told us about Gina."

"Maybe you're right. Whatever the case, he's doing something he doesn't want them to know about. But he acted as if he would tell us if we talked to him alone."

"Well, good luck with that."

"What do you mean? Can't we find him at his job or something?"

"I doubt it, especially since his mother knows he was lying to her. He won't be alone again for quite some time. They're going to want to keep him close. He's their baby boy, and they will protect him at all costs."

Flint groaned.

"Sorry," I said.

He stuck the keys into the ignition. "No, it's not your fault. I was just imagining taking his picture off the board, erasing everything about him, knocking our suspect pool down to four."

"Sounds like a nice little daydream."

"Shut up." He backed the car up, turned around, and pulled out to drive back the way we'd come.

I laughed a little.

"All right, here's the thing," said Flint as we pulled up to a stoplight. It was red. "If he is doing this, there's no way he's doing it in the family home. His mother and sisters would see that."

"I guess that's true," I said. "Maybe we can eliminate him."

"Why? You going to tell me there's no way he could own property?"

"Oh," I said. "I hadn't thought of that."

"So, he might have bought a house somewhere."

"I don't know..." I furrowed my brow. "That would be really weird."

"Because he's supposed to live out the rest of his days with his mama."

"Yes, basically," I said. "On rare occasions, a male gargoyle might temporarily live with a mate, I guess, but she'd own the house, not him. I don't know how he'd get the money to buy a house."

"He's got a job, right?"

"Yeah, but he's probably giving a lot of that money to the matriarch of the family to take care of everyone."

"With a job, he could get a loan," said Flint. "He could buy a house."

"Well, if he bought a house," I said, "then I would say he would go way up in terms of how likely I think he is to be the killer."

"Hmm," said Flint.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Ophelia Diaz was a short black woman with her hair wound around her head in tight, tiny braids. She wore about ten necklaces and twice that many bracelets. They were all talismans of some sort. She was one of the most powerful mages I had ever met. She'd known right off that I was a dragon.

Generally speaking, I wouldn't associate with mages, considering most of them got their dragon artifacts from the black market, and the supplies there came from slayers. All of those artifacts were from murdered dragons, and their magic could never be as strong anyway, since it had been stolen from them.

But Ophelia's artifacts came to her honestly.

Her ancestors had been slaves on a dragon plantation owner's farm. He'd had no offspring. Apparently, as he lay dying, he grew guilty over owning slaves, though he'd been cruel and vicious during his life. To make up for what he'd done, he left his and his entire line's artifacts to his slaves, who he also freed on his death.

Ophelia came from a long line of powerful mages.

Now, she owned the Pink Flamingo Cafe, which provided our continental breakfast and was where Felicity and I ate lunch every day.

Currently, she stood over the two of us with her lips pursed. "Where'd you get that?"

"It belonged to my ancestors," I said. I had the dragon artifacts we'd retrieved in a bag, and I'd opened it to show her the contents. "I know how to make talismans that I can use, but I don't have the first idea about how to make a magical object that could be used by Felicity or by Connor. I need your help."

She reached in and fingered the bones. She shuddered. "That's quite something you've got there."

"I want protection for them," I said. "Make it so they can't be hurt at all. Is that possible?"

Ophelia considered.

"I'll pay, of course," I said.

Ophelia drew herself up. "No, you're not talking any kind of sense, Penny. You think I'd charge you for work like this? As if I was one of those mages out on the corner?"

"Sorry," I said. When Ophelia scolded me, it was always a little intense.

"I can do it," she said. "Shouldn't be too much of a problem. But I might need to have them both around when I do it."

"Well, you can do Felicity anytime," I said. "But Connor's asleep right now. It's daytime."

"Right, of course." Ophelia shook her head. "Mmm mmm mmm. I don't want to know what you want these for, do I?"

"Probably not," I said. "Suffice it so say, you'll be pleased with the results, though, I think."

Ophelia wasn't big on making a fuss, as she called it, so she simply paid off the vampire gang and was done with it. I knew she'd be glad not to have that added expense, however.

She pointed a finger at my nose, complete with a long fake nail covered in purple swirls. "You listen to me, Penny. There is no call for you taking all the risks you take."

"If we have the talismans, it won't be a risk," I said.

She raised her eyebrows. "Sure, it won't."

"It won't," I insisted.

"And I suppose you didn't take any risks to get them in the first place?"

I didn't say anything.

She shook her head again. "All right, well, I'll see Felicity this afternoon. You tell Connor to come over as soon as he can." She gestured to her order pad. "Now, what's it going to be for lunch, hmm?"

I smiled. "Oh, you know, the usual."

"

Crab cake sandwiches, then."

"With fries," said Felicity, grinning.

* * *

When I got back to the hotel, Flint was parked outside, leaning up against his car. He was wearing his sunglasses.

I had to admit he was an attractive man. But I couldn't say that I was quite interested in him. He was interesting, but he was also so aloof.

I stopped. "Something I can help you with, Detective?"

He took off his sunglasses and grinned. "He owns a house."

"Brody?"

Flint nodded.

I raised my eyebrows. "Wow. I didn't expect that."

"You want to come look at it with me?"

"Right now?"

He nodded.

I shook my head. "Can't. Busy."

"Doing what?"

"Working," I said.

"What kind of work does one really do as a hotel owner? Owning doesn't seem entirely active, now does it?"

I glared at him. "I have things to do. Problems to take care of." Vampire problems.

He shrugged. "Guess I'll check it out on my own, then. I can't get in without a warrant or anything, but I'm going to walk around, look in the windows, that sort of thing. If I saw some evidence that Dahlia was inside, I could go in and get her out, of course. You might be missing an epic rescue. Sure you can't change your plans?"

I laughed a little. "I really wish I could. I hope you do find her. If you do, will you call me? Let me know?"

"Sure thing," he said, putting his sunglasses back on and opening the door to the car. "Later, then, Ms. Caspian."

"You know, you should probably call me Penny," I said. "Especially if you find Dahlia and we've just solved this case together. I think we should be on a first-name basis, then."

He shrugged. "All right."

"And I can call you Lachlan?"

He shrugged again. "If you want." He slid inside the car, waved to me, and drove off.

I peered after Flint. Lachlan. Hmm. Maybe I wanted to keep calling him Flint.

I wasn't sure.

I went back inside. I had a lot of preparation to do if I was going to stop these damned vampires once and for all.

* * *

Flint called me later to tell me that the house looked abandoned. He said there was still a for-sale sign in the front lawn, and he had called the real estate agent on the sign.

"Apparently, Brody just bought this thing about a week ago."

"Then he can't have used it to kill those girls, can he?" I said. "He didn't own it when they were murdered."

"No, doesn't seem likely."

"So, does that clear him?"

"I don't know," he said. "I still want to go in and look around if I can, just to be sure. Like I said, it's abandoned and in the middle of nowhere. Maybe he bought it to cover his tracks. Maybe he's been using it and found out it was on the market or something."

"Does that make sense?" I said. "Would he want to create a paper trail to the murder scene?"

"I don't know," he said. "It's a long shot. But I got the real estate agent to agree to let me in next week. You still going to be busy then, or you want to come along?"

"I should be able to come," I said.

"Good."

"Sure thing."

"Well, uh, I guess I'll see you later," he said. "Penny."

"Yeah, you too, Lachlan." The name seemed to stick in my mouth.

He chuckled. "Bye now." He hung up.

I took the phone away from my ear and glared at it. What was it about the good detective that left me so unsettled sometimes?

I tried to remember what it had been like to be attracted to men before meeting Alastair. I'd had a few interactions as a younger person, and I knew that my all-encompassing attraction for Alastair had blown all of that out of the water.

I did know that a younger version of myself would never have gone for someone like Flint. As a younger woman, I went for much more easy-going guys, the kind who flirted and grinned and wore their intentions on their sleeves. Flint—Lachlan—was far too pensive for me.

But there was the fact that I always thought about whether or not I was attracted to Flint, which must have meant something.

Still, it didn't matter.

I was certain that someone like Lachlan Flint was never going to be something as pedestrian as attracted to me. So, it was a thought-process better abandoned.

It was kind of annoying that it kept coming up, however.

I didn't have time to think about this, anyway.

I had to go and shift into a dragon so that I would have optimal magic when I faced down with Ace Gonzales. I wasn't going to let that asshole push me around anymore.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The sky was black, dotted with tiny white stars, and the air was cold.

Connor, Felicity and I walked up the street toward the ocean. On our left were rows of identical-looking beach houses—white with pastel porches. The windows glowed yellow and the activity was contained inside. It was too cold to be sitting on the porches. Most of the houses were empty. There wasn't a lot of tourist activity this time of year.

On our left was a huge, block-wide Sunsations. It was closed down for the winter season, and it squatted there like a massive toad.

In a few weeks, it would be spring break for some college somewhere, and then we'd start to be deluged with loud co-eds, running around and drinking and vomiting and playing their music at ungodly decibels. For now, though, it was quiet.

We would feel the breeze from the ocean on our faces, hear the crash of the waves as we approached.

I reached under my shirt and touched the talisman that I had created. It hung between my breasts—the two long claws bound together and tied to a leather strap. Just running my fingers over them made magic ripple through my body.

I took a deep breath. "You guys okay?" I said to Felicity and Connor.

"Yeah," said Felicity, who looked determined and strong.

Connor gulped. "Uh, yeah, I guess so."

I turned to look at him. "Hey, do you want out? I included you because I think of you like family, and because this is personal for you after what they did to you. But you shouldn't feel as if you have to fight them. If you want to go home, leave this to Felicity and me—"

"I can handle it," he said, looking fierce. "I may not be butch, but I'm strong."

"I know you are," I said.

"I'm a flipping gargoyle," he said. "My people were created to fight dragons. To withstand their strength and heat and magic. So, yeah, I can handle this."

I grinned. "Attaboy." I clapped him on the back.

He gulped.

"Just remember the plan," I said to both of them. "Don't let go of my hand no matter what. And is your talisman touching your skin?"

"Yes, we know that the talismans need to be against our skin," said Felicity. "Ophelia told us both eighteen times, and you keep harping on it too."

"Sorry," I said. "I just want to make sure you're both protected."

"But they do more than protect us, right?" said Connor.

I nodded. "Yeah. They make you both channels for magic. Together, we'll be threefold strong. There's nothing those vamps can do to us."

"Let's do this thing," said Felicity.

"I'll go first," I said. "Stay close."

Ahead of us, there was a beach-access point, which basically amounted to a break in the fence that ran across the beach. As we got closer to it, the pavement was covered in sand.

We stepped over that sand, which was covering the pavement. The ground still felt firm under our feet.

But as we cleared the fence, the pavement gave way, and our feet sunk into the cold, powdery stuff.

The beach was empty except for a distant fire down the beach. We could see that there were quite a few people gathered around the fire pit. Those were the vamps. They were having a party on the beach.

We were about to crash it.

The waves bashed into the shore. The ocean roared.

We approached the party.

"If this were a movie," I said, "right now, 'All Along the Watchtower' would be playing. It would be absolutely perfect for this moment."

"It would?" said Connor, disbelief in his tone. "How do you figure?"

"Oh, come on, it's all about the joker and the thief coming to fuck up the people on the watchtower," I said.

"No, it's not," said Felicity.

"Yes, it is," I said. "Have you ever even listened to the lyrics?"

Felicity started humming under her breath, mouthing the words to herself.

"Look, whatever it's about, it's so... psychedelic," said Connor. "I really think we could come up with something more current than some song Jimi Hendrix wrote."

"Actually, Bob Dylan wrote that song," I said.

"No way," said Connor.

"Huh," said Felicity. "Maybe it is about that. Because there's that part about the two riders approaching?"

"Yeah," I said. "And the last time we saw the joker and the thief, they were all going on about how late it was getting, so I think they're obviously going to do something."

"And the wind began to howl," Felicity whispered darkly.

We walked the rest of the way in silence.

When we got close enough, we were greeted by two muscle-bound vampires who both sported mohawks. They folded tattooed arms and glared down at us. "Party's by invite only," said one.

"We're special friends of Ace Gonzales," I said. This was the kind of time that having compulsion would really come in handy. Unfortunately, it only worked on humans. The vamps had magic, even if it was only a little bit, and it rendered them immune. "Tell him Penny Caspian's here. I'm sure he'll want to talk."

One of the mohawks turned and grabbed a leather-jacket-clad vampire walking by. "Hey, Steve-o, go tell Ace there's some Penny Caspian to see him."

Steve-o stopped and squinted at us. "Hey, man, that's the dragon chick. The one that owns the hotel."

The mohawks both turned back to us, very different expressions on their faces. "Come with us," one said.

They took us by the arms and dragged us over to the fire pit, which was an old metal trash can, flames shooting out the top.

A few vampires had sticks propped up over it, roasting hot dogs.

When Ace saw us, his mouth curved into a smile. "Mrs. Cooper. Decided to come and give us what we want at last? Did you enjoy your visit from your husband?"

That ass. He had gotten in touch with Alastair after all. I had thought he'd be too chicken. Well, wonders never ceased.

I smirked. "You think that rattled me? You don't know me very well."

"I know that we need to come to an agreement about our business arrangement," said Ace. "That is why you're here, isn't it? To pay up?"

"Not even close," I said.

"Maybe we'll just take our payment in blood, then," said Ace, gesturing with both hands.

All the vampires around us turned on us, swarming in close like ants.

I stroked my new talisman, pushed magic outward.

The vampires fell into each other, falling down from the inside out, like a set of well-set-up dominoes.

"Listen to me, Ace Gonzales," I said. "You and your vampires are going to leave me alone. You're never going to dark the door of my business again. And you will never touch a hair on any of my employee's heads ever again."

"You do talk big, Mrs. Cooper."

"Caspian," I said. "The name's Caspian." I reached for Felicity and Connor.

All three of us grasped hands.

And I felt the power, the magic, singing through my veins, far brighter and hotter than anything I had ever felt before. I threw my head back, suddenly basking in it.

It felt amazing, like swimming in a hot bath of bright light.

I felt lazily powerful, like a minor goddess, able to give into my whims and desires, no matter how lavish.

"Gather close, everyone," I whispered, smoke trickling out of my mouth, plumes of it joining the smoke from the fire pit.

I used my magic to pick up all the vampires, bring them in tight and close.

I made them all float, even Ace. They dangled there, several inches off the ground.

And then I drew the power from Felicity and Connor.

"Ready?" I looked at Felicity.

She nodded.

I looked at Connor.

His eyes were shining. "Fuck yes."

I threw my head back and a wall of fire emanated from within me. It shot straight up into the sky, high as I could see, orangey red and blocking out the moon.

It descended like a rushing roller coaster, encircling the floating vamps with six feet of crackling flames.

The vamps all looked around, fear in their eyes, flames reflecting against their faces.

"What should I do, Ace?" I said. "Should I burn your entire damned gang to the ground? Should I make each of you go up in smoke?"

He swallowed.

"Poof," I said, blowing out more smoke.

Ace was afraid. "Look, you don't have to hurt anybody."

"You didn't have to hurt anyone either," I said. "But you did. You came in and hurt my friend here."

"That was an accident," said Ace. "Come on, look, lady. Just stop with the fucking fire. We get it. We'll back off."

"That a promise?" I said.

"Yes, just turn off the heat," he said.

"Swear it," I said. "Swear a blood oath. Swear that if you go back on your word, you will offer up your entrails as a burnt offering for breaking your bond."

"Okay, yeah," he said. "Whatever you say."

"Good," I said. I let go of Connor and Felicity.

Slowly, the flames dissipated, leaving behind a black ring on the sand.

I dropped all the vampires.

They didn't land gracefully, but in a tangled heap.

They struggled to their feet, brushing sand off their backsides.

I turned to Connor and Felicity. "Let's go."

We started to troop across the sand.

"You're really fucking stupid aren't you?" called Ace after me. "You think if I promise you something, it means anything? What are we? Five?"

And suddenly, I was flat on my face in the sand.

I'd been tackled, and Felicity and Connor were right next to me, vampires on their backs, holding them down.

A strong hand on the back of my head pressed my face into the gritty sand. It went into my mouth, and I struggled to breathe.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

There was sand in my nostrils, sand between my teeth. I coughed and sputtered.

I reached back with my magic and plucked the vampire off of me. I slammed him down into the ground and got to my feet.

Using magic again, I yanked the two goons off of Felicity and Connor.

I pointed at the ocean.

They sailed through the air and dropped down into the waves.

Ace Gonzales was coming for me.

I ran for him, yelling over my shoulder. "Felicity! Connor! Get out of here!"

Gonzales held out both his hands.

I stopped in my tracks. Well, there. Hold on. Mr. Ace had some magic, then, did he? Had he bought some dragon blood? That bastard. I wasn't going to let him get by with that.

I touched my talisman and then I waved my hand.

His magic shattered under mine.

He screwed up his face, fingers splayed, reaching for me.

I felt the magic hit me, stronger than before. It was a tendril of power, and it was wrapping its way around my neck.

I touched my talisman again.

But the tendril was tightening quickly, and I had been coughing and choking on sand. I gasped, stopping to double over.

Ace sneered. "You're not so tough after all. I'm going to squeeze the life out of you, you dragon bitch."

I shut my eyes, scrabbling for my talisman. I closed my hand around the two claws.

The magic inside me roared to life. The tendril of power at my neck snapped.

I straightened, and I headed for Gonzales.

He tried again, throwing more magic at me.

I waved my hand, diverting it to one side.

Letting out a cry of rage, he simply leaped on me, pushing me down on my back.

I used magic to throw him off.

He leaped on me again. He raked his nails over my face. He bared his fangs, and they glistened in the light of the moon.

That bastard. If he thought that he was going to bite me, he had another thing coming. I hauled back to blast magic at him, and—

"Penny!"

I turned.

Connor was on his back, fighting with another vampire. He was struggling.

Damn it. I diverted the magic, sent it over to send Connor's attacker skittering.

And then I felt the sharp pain of two fangs breaking the skin of my neck. I shrieked in pain and rage.

Ace was drinking my blood, sucking out my essence, my magic.

I poured power into him, sending him sprawling.

But he got to his feet, laughing darkly. "Ooh, you taste like strawberries, sweetheart."

I funneled power into him again.

He barely stumbled. "I had a taste of that. I'm even stronger now." He had drunk my blood and now he was using my own magic against me.

I felt a tiny thread of panic. He didn't have a chance against me, did he?

I touched my talisman. I shot magic at him.

He staggered, but he didn't fall down. He started for me, taking one sure step after another.

No fricking way. I wasn't letting this asshole do this to me. He had drunk my blood. He had hurt Connor. He didn't deserve any mercy at all.

I felt the fire swell within me again. It burned its way up my core, past my throat and through my lips. I roared it out at him.

The fireball hit his stomach, and he began to scream.

I stumbled backwards.

I expected the other vampires to try to help their leader, but they all just ran from his burning form.

Ace screamed and stumbled and screamed and stumbled.

And then he fell. He was silent.

The flames kept climbing, but he stopped moving.

I felt queasy. I'd just burned him to death.

And then it was pandemonium, everyone running in all directions.

Sirens blared in the distance.

"Penny!" yelled Felicity.

I couldn't move. I had killed him. Killed him. I had never killed anything before.

Well, maybe bugs. Maybe a few plants. But other than that...

"Penny!"

"Go," I yelled to her. "Get out of here. I'll meet you." I couldn't stop looking at the burning ash. At all that was left of Ace Gonzales, a truly horrible man.

But a man that was gone from this earth because of me.

I swallowed.

* * *

"Penny Caspian?" said the police officer.

I hadn't moved. I was staring woodenly at the ashes of Ace Gonzales. "Uh, that's me."

"We'd like to ask you a few questions," said the officer.

"Okay," I whispered. "Go ahead." What the hell? Was I a murderer? Did I need a lawyer?

I didn't even really have a lawyer. There had been a family lawyer for the Caspian family, but I wasn't sure if he would work for me, considering that I had been disowned from the family. How else did a person find a lawyer, anyway? Online? Would they let me use my phone to call a lawyer?

"Might be easier if we did it down at the station," said the police officer.

I turned to look at her. "Am I under arrest?"

"Did you do something that you need to be arrested for?" she asked.

I licked my lips. Well. I wasn't going to answer that question. "I think I want a lawyer," I said.

She crossed her arms over the chest. "I was only saying it because it's cold out here, and I don't feel like freezing my ass off just to do a routine interrogation. But now, you got me curious. So, we're definitely going down to the station."

Damn it. My shoulders sagged.

"Come on," she said. "You can ride in my car."

I followed her, feeling drained and terrified. I looked around for Felicity and Connor. They weren't here, were they? I didn't see them anywhere. Hopefully, they'd run.

If I'd had any sense, I would have run too.

But considering this officer knew my name, I didn't guess it would have made much difference. She just would have hunted me down at the hotel.

I turned to look back at the pile of ashes one last time.

At least Ace wasn't going to be bothering anyone anymore. Even if I went to jail, that was a consolation.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

"So, Ms. Caspian, why don't you just go through what happened tonight?" said the officer. We were in an interrogation room, and she'd brought me some coffee, but she hadn't put enough sugar in it. It was bitter, but I wasn't going to complain. I just wouldn't drink it. Anyway, it was too late for coffee. Of course, maybe I was going to be up all night being interrogated by the police.

It was a funny thing. I'd planned on lots of things going wrong with the vamps, but not once had I considered the police showing up.

Where the hell had they been when Ace was terrorizing everyone on the block?

"I don't know if I should," I said.

"Why not?"

"Well, everything was pretty confusing. I'm not even really sure exactly what happened anyway."

"Should I tell you what's being said about you?"

"Okay," I said.

"They're saying you murdered Ace Gonzales in cold blood. By, um, breathing fire."

"Oh," I said.

"You're a dragon, Ms. Caspian."

"See, I don't know if I should answer that, either," I said. "I think I should talk to a lawyer, but I don't really have one. Is it okay if I look on my phone and try to find someone?"

The officer looked annoyed. "I just want some answers. That's all. Are you a dragon or not?"

"What if I say no?" I said.

"Are you saying no?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe it's no one's business really."

"It seems to me that if you weren't a dragon, you'd have no problem denying it, but if you were a dragon, you might want to conceal it. Especially if you're guilty."

I chewed on my lip. "Um. Well, the thing is that Mr. Gonzales, he was the head of an organized crime ring. A vampire motorcycle gang. They call themselves The Lost Breed. Anyway, I think a guy like that probably has a lot of enemies. And maybe it would be easier for the guys in his gang to say he was burned to death by a dragon than to admit that he was just shot in the back by someone."

"Well, we haven't actually found his body," said the police officer.

"Well, there you go," I said. "Maybe he's not even dead."

She narrowed her eyes. "You watch a lot of crime television, don't you?"

"No," I said. "I just think that if you don't have a body, and you only have the eye witness testimony of a bunch of drunk vampires who live on the wrong side of the law, then maybe you don't really have much."

"Fine," she said. "So, set me straight, then. What were you doing on the beach with all those criminal drunk vampires?"

I cringed. "Uh... strolling on the beach for leisure?"

"It's cold outside."

"And yet the vampires were out there."

She sighed.

"I like the brisk weather."

There was a knock on the door.

She sighed again, and then got up to answer the door. She poked her head out, and I couldn't see who it was. "I'm busy right now, and I don't need your interrogation expertise." She waited. The person on the other side of the door said something, but I couldn't make it out. Then she moved aside, opening the door wider.

Flint walked in. "Hey, there," he said, grinning at me. "I thought you understood, Penny. It's okay to tell Rachel here about what you were doing for me."

"Oh," I said, feeling very confused.

"Yeah, it's fine. I said we needed to keep it a secret, but I didn't mean from other cops." He turned to the police officer. "Penny is my magical creatures consultant."

"Your what?" she said.

"I'm helping out with the Dragon Slasher case," I said.

"Because you are a dragon," she said.

I didn't say anything. I looked at Flint.

He laughed. "Don't go broadcasting that, huh?"

"She killed someone, Flint," she said.

"No, no," said Flint. "She was working undercover for me. There's no way she would have done something so conspicuous."

"People saw a tower of flame—"

"And it was that fire pit they had on the beach," said Flint. "That Gonzales guy got too close, went up like tinder, and people saw it for miles around." He grinned easily. "You ever seen a vamp burn up?"

She sighed again. "That doesn't make sense."

"Sure it does," said Flint. "Ms. Caspian is a good, well-meaning citizen who was just doing her civic duty, trying to find out something about those vampires—"

"Since when do you let civilians work undercover?" said the police officer.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You questioning my methods, Rachel?"

"Maybe," she said.

He winked at her. "I know I'm the new kid on the block here, but I think what I've accomplished—"

"Yeah, you're a machine, and everyone knows that. You can get confessions like nobody's business, and you're closing cases left and right, but that doesn't mean that you have carte blanche."

"Actually," said Flint. "It kind of does. Release Ms. Caspian, or I'll have a talk with the captain."

Rachel looked as if she might start breathing fire. "I can't release her, because I was never holding her."

"You mean I could have left at any time?" I said.

Flint held out his hand to me. "Come on, Penny. Let's go."

I let him help me up, and we walked out of the room.

* * *

Flint drove me home, but he didn't speak during the entire drive. I tried to thank him the minute we got out of there, but he shut me down. And his whole demeanor changed. He'd been charming and easy with Rachel, a nice southern boy who winked and sweet-talked. The minute we were alone, a storm cloud descended over him and he wouldn't even look at me.

While we drove, he clutched the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were white.

Several times, he took a deep breath, as if he was going to say something, but then he let it out, shaking his head.

He was pissed.

When we got back to the hotel, I turned to him inside the car. "Listen, Lachlan, I really appreciate what you did back there." I thought using his first name might soften him up a little bit.

It didn't. He got out of the car, slamming the door after himself.

He headed into the hotel.

I followed him.

He pointed at the girl, Becky, who was working behind the desk. "Leave," he said.

"Hey," I said. "You can't talk to my staff like that."

He turned on me, and his expression was dark, his eyes a threat.

"Go on," I said, to the girl behind the desk. "Take a break or something."

Flint began to pace. "What happened?"

"I had a vamp problem," I said. "I had to take care of it."

"I distinctly remember asking you if you had a problem."

"And like I told you, it was nothing I couldn't handle."

"Except you couldn't handle it, or you'd be locked up right now. You killed a man."

"A bad man," I said in a tiny voice.

Lachlan glared at me. "Does that matter?"

"Kind of?" I winced.

He stopped pacing. He took his sunglasses out of his pocket and began to clean them on his shirt. "What happened?"

"Well, ever since I bought this hotel, that stupid vamp gang has been coming by, demanding money from me and destroying my place of business. Then they found out I was a dragon, and they escalated things. They wanted more than money. They wanted my blood. And I don't mean that as a little saying. I mean they literally wanted to drink my blood. And they hurt Connor. And I wasn't going to let it stand."

"So, you killed someone."

"I didn't mean to, but he was trying to kill me."

He let out a low breath. "God damn it, why didn't you just lead with that?"

"Does that make a difference?"

"Makes it self defense."

"Is it self defense if I went into his party and antagonized him and instigated the entire thing?"

"Well..."

"Of course," I said. "I had made my point, and I was walking away, and he had his goons jump me from behind, and then he wanted to have a magic fight, and he tried to strangle me, and then—"

"Yeah," said Flint. "That's self-defense."

I took a deep breath. "Oh. Cool."

"But you still should never have been there in the first place."

"I had to do something."

"You could have come to me. I would have alerted the proper departments—"

"I don't think the police could have handled this. They know nothing about vampires. They'd go in there and get themselves compelled. How many of the officers wear protection talismans? Or amulets? Or anything like that?"

He rubbed his forehead.

"I have a point, and you know it."

"Whatever point you have, it doesn't matter," he said. "Because you can't just take the law into your own hands."

I pressed my lips together in a firm line.

"This is the point in time where you apologize and say you'll never do it again," he said.

"But I'm not sorry," I said. I sat down on the bench near the door and looked up at the space where the television used to be. I needed to get another one now that no vamps would come and destroy it. "I mean, I wish that it hadn't come to that. I never killed someone before. But he took it there, not me. And I can't think of any other way it could have gone down."

He jammed his sunglasses into his pocket. "Seriously? So, tell me, how am I supposed to work with you from now on? For all I know, you'll pump fire into anyone who you think deserves it."

"Hey, it was not like that."

"What happens if you find out something about me you don't like? Would you kill me?"

"Of course not," I said. "You just said it was self-defense." There was a little whine to my voice. I didn't like his being like this. And it was fairly strange too, because I didn't think that I'd ever seen him so passionate. About anything.

There was a knock on the door.

Lachlan held up a finger. "Wait. We are not done."

The door pushed open and Ophelia stuck her head in. "Penny, you in there, girl?"

I gave her a tiny wave. "Um, it's not really a good time—"

She threw open the door and came for me, throwing her arms around me. "Oh, you sweet, blessed child, I cannot believe you actually did it."

I let her squeeze me, eyeing Flint, who looked pissed.

Ophelia drew back and held me at arms' length. "Believe me that I speak for everyone on the block when I say thank you for doing something about those horrible vampires. I know that everyone is grateful. This is just the most wonderful thing that anyone has done for this community in years."

Flint threw his hands up in the air. "I can see that there's no way I'm going to get through to you." He stalked out the door, letting it slam closed behind him.

Ophelia furrowed her brow. "Did I say something that upset him?"

I shook my head. "It wasn't your fault."

She grinned again. "I just got to give you another hug, girl."

I couldn't help but smile back.

* * *

For the next several days, we were deluged by people coming by to tell us how glad we were that we'd done something about The Lost Breed gang. People dropped off cakes. They brought flowers. They gave us gift cards to their establishments.

It was nice to know that we were appreciated.

But there was no sign of Detective Lachlan Flint. I guessed he'd been serious when he said that he couldn't work with me anymore. And I didn't like that, because I wanted to do what I could for those dragon girls and their families. But I didn't know how I could help if he wouldn't let me.

If I hadn't felt a little bit like a hero to the entire magical community of south Sea City, then it might have really bummed me out. But by standing up to Ace and his goons, I had helped a lot of people, and it felt good.

Connor and I were sitting in the lobby eating coconut cake and sorting through gift cards one evening.

"I want the free drinks to Duffy's Pub and Grill," he said. "You don't mind, right? You have no social life."

"Hey!" I said. "I have a social life."

He snorted. "Whatever."

"I do," I said. "I get out. I have fun."

"Sure," he said. "Like, um, when?"

I bit my lip, thinking about it. "Well, I went out to dinner with Felicity and Jensen."

"Oh, yeah, and that went so well. You didn't even get to order drinks, because they kicked you out of the restaurant."

"Yeah, maybe." I plucked the gift card out of his hands. "Still, all the more reason for me to have the free drinks card. Maybe it'll help me get out of my rut."

"Fine," said Connor. "But then I get the tanning salon card."

I made a face. "Take it and welcome." I looked him over.

"Yes," he said. "We tan."

"It's only that you don't really look like you could be, um, tan. You're sort of gray all over."

"If we lie the sun, we get darker gray."

"And that's a good thing?"

He snatched up the card. "Shut up."

"I don't mean to be offensive," I said.

"You're not," he said. "Because you're you. And because I'm me. But don't say anything like that to another gargoyle, okay?"

"I wouldn't," I said. I took another bite of cake and chewed. Mmm. Delicious. "Hey, speaking of Jensen, when was the last time you saw Felicity?"

"I don't know," he said. "I guess maybe yesterday."

"Yeah, I haven't seen her since then either. And she's not answering her phone."

"Ooh, guess they're busy." He giggled.

"Eew, don't say things like that."

He made a rueful face. "You know, after that thing with the vampires where we all almost died, I would have liked to have hot, life-affirming sex with someone."

"Double eew," I said. "I don't want to think about my best friends getting laid, please."

Connor chuckled. "That's because you haven't gotten any in a long time. You're probably atrophying down there."

I gaped at him. "What makes you think that you can say these things to me?"

He ate some cake, shrugging. "I don't have a good filter, really. I kind of just say what I think."

I glared at him.

"What's going on with that detective?"

"He saved me from going to jail for killing Ace and then he told me he couldn't work with me anymore and disappeared. Besides, I am so not ever going to have sex with him."

"No?"

"No way. I mean, he's kind of okay looking, but—"

"Okay looking? He's freaking gorgeous."

"He's skinny."

Connor considered. "Kind of, I guess, but he's got a decent-sized frame, so he doesn't look wimpy."

"It wouldn't matter if he were Mr. Universe. He's weird and aloof. And he's obsessed with making strange connections between classic literature and cases. And sometimes he does this weird manipulative thing with this velvety tone, and it's kind of creepy. And he's full of himself. And he's always got to be right. The whole package negates any attractiveness about him, you know?"

Connor nodded, but he looked like he was trying really hard not to laugh.

"What?" I said.

"Nothing," he said.

"About Felicity," I said. "What do you think I should do?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, what if she's in danger?"

"From Jensen?"

"Yes, from Jensen. He's a goddamned vampire. He wants to suck her blood."

"You don't even know that."

"What if he does it while she's sleeping? What if he's been siphoning off her blood, biting her someplace we can't see, and what if he went too far, and now she's dead?"

Connor rolled his eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes at me."

"Leave it alone."

I ate more cake. "I can't."

"Are you going to be this weird when I have a boyfriend?"

"Depends. Are you going to date a vampire?"

"Only if he's pretty," said Connor.

I sighed.

"Seriously, Penny. Let Felicity be. She wouldn't appreciate it if she knew that you weren't giving Jensen the benefit of the doubt. She really likes him, and you've got to try to trust her judgment."

"It's not her I don't trust. I allowed myself to be fooled by Alastair—"

"To be fair, you didn't have a lot of choice there. You felt the dragon mating bond, and that made you hot for him."

I didn't answer, because I was thinking about exactly how hot I'd been for Alastair.

Maybe the reason that I didn't want to move on, to try to have sex with someone, was that I was pretty much convinced that it would never be as good as it had been with the man that I despised.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Felicity woke me up the next morning banging around in the apartment.

I got out of bed and went out to talk to her. "Hey," I said.

"Can't talk," she said, her arms full of clothes. "I've got to get my laundry in. I scheduled myself an hour with the washer and dryer before the maids start washing sheets, and that hour started ten minutes ago."

"Okay," I said. "Well, I'll come with you to the laundry room."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself."

I held out my arms. "Can I take some of the clothes?"

She handed some stuff over.

We trooped down the steps to the lower level. The laundry room was behind my office on the first floor. There were only two floors to my tiny hotel, and the top floor was all suites.

Felicity pushed open the door. "We need another washer and dryer, you know. There is no way we can survive during the summer season with only one set."

"We should probably get two more," I said. "Two more washers, two more dryers?"

"That would be fabulous," she said.

"Well, now that I don't have to budget new windows and TVs for the lobby, since the vamp gang is out of the picture and not smashing everything on a biweekly basis, we might be able to swing it."

"Awesome," she said, throwing open the washer and shoving her clothes inside.

I followed suit, depositing my armful. "Hey, um, where have you been? With Jensen?"

"Yeah." She flashed me a smile.

I hesitated. "Everything going okay there?"

She arched an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," I said. "Just, you know, what it sounds like."

"If things weren't going well, would I be late for my laundry?" she said. "It was really hard to leave him this morning." She sighed, getting a dreamy look in her eyes. "I love this part, you know? When it's all new and fresh and you just can't get enough of each other?"

I licked my lips. I wasn't sure if I knew what she meant. My relationship with Alastair hadn't really been like that. It had been... mutual obsession? And it hadn't changed much. If anything, the intensity had only increased with time. I didn't know what a new, fresh relationship would feel like. I wasn't even sure if dragons could feel that.

She pointed at me. "I see that wistful look you're getting in your eyes. And listen to me, despite whatever it is that you think, you are not done with love. Didn't you say that you thought you might be ready to try again just a little while ago?"

"I was being stupid," I said. "I don't even know what you're talking about. I don't think I've ever felt that fresh, new feeling."

She grabbed both sides of my face. "Then you need to. Get back out there." She turned back to the washer. "Why don't you just ask the detective on a date?"

"He's not coming around anymore," I said. "It's too bad, because I really liked the idea of helping out that way. But I think I can help people other ways, like the way I helped everyone with the vampire gang."

"Why isn't he coming around anymore?"

"He's mad at me for taking the law into my own hands," I said.

"Well, maybe we should have gone to the police," she said.

I glared at her.

She shrugged. She added detergent to the washer. "I'm not saying it would have worked, but if we'd tried that angle first—"

"No," I said. "The police aren't equipped to deal with magical creatures."

She thought about it. "Yeah, probably not. We did what we had to do. Which reminds me." She pulled the talisman that Ophelia had made for her out of her pocket. "You want this back?"

"Are you kidding? That's yours. Wear it for protection," I said. "And to do magic if you need it."

"I don't know how to do magic," she said. "And I don't really want to know."

"Well, for protection, then," I said.

"Okay." She eyed it, and then put it over her head and tucked it inside her shirt.

"You know, knowing you have that makes me feel better about you being with Jensen all the time."

"Jesus, Penny, he is not going to hurt me."

"Right," I muttered.

We were quiet.

I scuffed my toe against the floor. "You want to grab breakfast at the Flamingo? We'll be back in time for you to switch stuff over to the dryer."

"I ate at Jensen's," she said. "But if you want company—"

"Nah, it's fine," I said. "I'll see you around, okay?"

"Yup." She went back to the washing machine.

I left and wandered out into the lobby. Becky was working there again. She was slouched behind the front desk, staring at her phone.

"Slow morning?" I said.

She jumped, sticking her phone behind her back. "Ms. Caspian! I didn't know that you were—"

"It's okay, Becky, I don't care if you do personal things when there's no one around to help," I said. "Just don't ignore customers."

She nodded. "Okay."

I smiled. "So, nothing's up?"

She shook her head.

"What are you doing on your phone? Playing games?"

"Nah, I was checking the news. They found that girl, the one who's missing? The dragon girl?"

My heart stopped. "Dahlia Brooks?"

"Yeah."

"Is she okay?"

Becky shook her head slowly. "She washed up on the shore like the others."

I shut my eyes, feeling sick to my stomach. Some part of me had known this was the only way that Dahlia could ever be found. But some other part of me was angry, especially with myself. Why hadn't I been able to figure out who was doing this? Why hadn't I been able to stop him?

The worst of it all was knowing that I was helpless now. Without Flint, how was I ever going to stop the killer?

* * *

I was staring at my phone, telling myself to just swallow my pride and dial Lachlan. "Tell him that you're sorry, even if you're not," I said to myself aloud. "Just lie to him so that he'll let you back on the case." For some reason, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I picked up my phone, and then set it back down.

Damn it.

The phone started ringing.

Damn it. It was Flint. I picked it up. "Hello?"

"Ms. Caspian? Uh, Penny?"

"Yeah?" I said.

"I, uh, wanted to apologize." He wanted to apologize?

I was stunned. "There's nothing to apologize for."

"No, you're right about the police being ineffective against the magical creatures in this town. It's a problem. I may not agree with the way that you chose to solve the problem, but I appreciate your position. So, I'm sorry."

"Well, it's really fine," I said. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have taken the law into my own hands." That was how he'd put it, right?

"Like I said, I understand."

"Well, good."

"Good," he said.

We were quiet.

He cleared his throat. "I guess you saw the news about Dahlia?"

"I did. How awful. I was actually just about to call you."

"Really? So, you'd still be interested in helping me with this case?"

"Of course I would," I said. "I feel... responsible for her death, like I should have already caught this guy."

"You sound like my captain," he said grimly. "I'm under a good bit of pressure here. When I showed up at this precinct, they were happy enough to relegate me to the magical creatures cases, whatever they might be. Most of them are pretty low profile. But now that the dragons are involved, well, that's not good. So, unless I can make an arrest soon, I'm going to be pulled off this."

"No!" I said. If Lachlan was pulled off it, then I couldn't work on it either.

"Anyway, I could really use your help."

"I'm here," I said. "What do you need?"

"Well, about going to see the house?"

"Brody's house," I said, remembering. "The gargoyle."

"Yeah, him. You said you'd come."

"And I will. You want me to meet you there?"

"No, I'll pick you up."

* * *

"This is all, then?" Flint asked the real estate agent. We were standing in the empty living room of the house, which was a modest little three bedroom north of the city on the border of Delaware. Out here, there were still some places that were a little bit remote, unlike down in Sea City, where all the real estate was packed on top of itself. The house sat in the woods, and there were no other houses in sight. "There's no basement or anything?"

The real estate agent laughed. "Basement? Out here? It'd get flooded. You're not from around here, are you?"

"He's from Texas," I said helpfully.

The real estate agent winked at him. "I thought I recognized that accent."

Oh, Jesus, she was flirting with him.

Lachlan seemed to realize it too. His demeanor changed, and he suddenly transformed into the charming sweet talker he could be. He laughed too. "Well, it's a bit of a change of pace here, I will admit."

"What part of Texas?" she said.

"Near San Antonio," he said. "Uh, about the buyer? He tell you why he wanted this house?"

"He didn't, but it was pretty obvious that he and his girlfriend intended to move in."

"Girlfriend?" said Flint. "Another gargoyle?"

"No, I think she was human," said the agent. "But it's hard to tell with vampires. I assume she was his girlfriend, anyway, I didn't really ask. She came with him to look at every house we saw, and they spoke as if they'd both be living here. Of course, he did purchase it on his own. He owns the house, not the both of them together, so maybe I'm mistaken."

"Well, it's good to know either way," said Flint. "Did you happen to catch this woman's name?"

"Sure, her first name was Debby," said the agent. "But I guess that's not much help." She thought about it a second. "Actually, he did say her last name once. She gave him a hug, and he said, 'Well, Debby Adair, will this work?' And she said yes, and kissed him."

"Thank you very much," said Flint, grinning.

* * *

Flint hung up his phone. "Got an address for a Debby Adair. Want to head over there?"

I nodded. "Sure, I've got nothing but time."

"It's strange, then, isn't it?" said Flint. "For him to have a girlfriend?"

"Especially a human one," I said.

"This could be the thing that he was hiding, the reason why he lied to his family about Gina," said Flint. "If we can confirm he spends all that free time with this Debby person, that would be enough to cross him off the list, I think. It would answer all my questions about him, anyway."

"Mine too," I said. "That would be a good thing, eliminating someone."

"I need to make some damned progress on this case," Lachlan muttered.

We got in his car and started driving back to Sea City. I watched the scenery through the window. Up north here, everything seemed a little subdued and sophisticated. There weren't any gaudy Sunsations on every block and there weren't any twenty-story hotels on the coast. We were a bit inland, and the narrow road went past small strip malls and over bridges and past marshes. Birds soared over everything, white gulls against the blue sky. I had to admit it was peaceful up here.

Still, I thought I might prefer the bustle and excitement of the area near my little hotel.

Then I saw a sign that made me feel cold all over. "There's one of those Brotherhood lodges." I pointed. The Brotherhood had set up as if they were some kind of service fraternity, like the Lion's Club or Kiwanis. But they were just an organization where bigoted humans could gather and spew hate at each other over beer. It was galling when I heard that anyone took their money, but they did manage to give to local schools and libraries, and it made me sick.

"We should go in," said Lachlan, slowing the car.

"What?" I said. "Are you crazy?"

"Look, we think that Otis Sanders is associated with the Brotherhood, and this is the local chapter, so he'd probably be a member here. And Killian Henderson, the strip club owner, said something about the Brotherhood. We're right here. We might as well check it out."

"I'm a dragon," I said. "I can't go in there."

"They'll never know that." He pulled the car into the parking lot.

I dragged my hands over my face. "Maybe I should wait in the car."

"Don't be silly," he said. "Come in with me. You should hear this if you want to help out with the investigation."

I sighed. But then I got out and followed him inside.

* * *

The Brotherhood were in a building that looked like it had once been a fast food restaurant. The drive-through window was still on the side of the building.

The front of the building was all made of glass, but it had been hung inside with black fabric to keep anyone from being able to see in.

Lachlan pushed open a swinging glass door, and we entered.

The room we emerged into was lit with fluorescent lights and mostly empty. It was big and open, with two long stretches of rectangular tables running up the length of it.

At the edge of one table, in the far corner, were three men.

They were all a little thick in the middle with protruding beer bellies. All of them had on leather jackets and jeans. One wore glasses. Another had thinning hair. The third was missing one of his front teeth.

When we came in, all three of them stood up.

Flint got out his badge and flashed it. "I'm Detective Lachlan Flint. This is my associate Penny Caspian. We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions."

The men all approached us.

"About what?" said Glasses.

"Just general kind of questions, I suppose," said Flint, giving them a reassuring smile. "About the Brotherhood."

"Our organization is officially called Humans for a Wholesome Tomorrow," said Thinning Hair.

"So, you don't want to be called the Brotherhood?" said Flint.

"We just want to be understood as an organization that cares about the future," said Glasses. "People get the wrong idea about us."

Lachlan nodded. "I bet they do."

No Tooth regarded us with suspicion. "If you're a cop, then you're probably here because you suspect we did something. Well, we didn't do it."

Flint raised his eyebrows. "I don't want to get off on the wrong foot, now. I'm here solely because I'm curious about what you guys do. Believe me, I can sympathize with your position. As a police officer, with all these monsters running around this city, it makes my job tough."

"Look, we don't want to hurt any of those magic mutts," said Thinning Hair. "We just want to keep things separate."

"Right," said Lachlan, smiling. "Pure."

"Exactly," said Glasses, smiling as well.

"Let me ask you, do you have a member by the name of Otis Sanders?" Flint asked.

No Tooth coughed. "You can't judge us by just one member. We're an accepting bunch here, but we don't condone what he does for a living."

"Like I said," Thinning Hair put in, "we don't want magical creatures to get hurt. So, him being a slayer and all, that's not what we're about."

"It's just better for them things to be with their own kind is all," said Glasses. "Not out in public with regular folks."

Man, this conversation was starting to make me sick. I hated the Brotherhood. They were disturbed individuals, and it bothered me that they were allowed to exist or that anyone would join their ranks. But the truth was that they were growing, especially in this area. As more and more magical creatures came to Sea City, more and more humans joined the Brotherhood.

I couldn't understand why. Surely people were more intelligent than that. Surely they weren't all swayed by hate.

"You're awful quiet, sweetheart," said No Tooth to me.

"Just taking it all in," I said.

"So Otis is a member of this club?" said Lachlan.

"Well, what do you mean by that?"

"You do have membership, don't you?" said Flint.

"Yeah, there's dues and all that," said Glasses.

"So," said Flint. "Is Otis one or not?"

"Yeah, I guess," said No Tooth. "Why does it matter?"

"Only that I find it strange that he would have lied to me about it is all," said Flint. "If this place doesn't condone killing or violence like you say, then why would he want to hide his association?"

"We don't know why Otis does anything," said Glasses."

"What's this really about?" said No Tooth.

Thinning Hair cocked his head and looked closely at my chest.

At first I thought he was checking out my cleavage or something, and I blushed and felt like cold-cocking him. But then I realized he could see my talisman, because it was sticking out of my shirt. I tried to reach up and tuck it out of view.

But Thinning Hair shot forward and snatched it before I could. "What's this?"

"Let go of my necklace," I said.

He tugged it over my head. "This is magic shit."

I shut my eyes. Damn it, why hadn't I been paying better attention? Well, these were humans, and there was no reason to get too bent out of shape over it. I opened my eyes, locking onto Thinning Hair's gaze. I peered deeply into his eyes. My voice came out low and soothing, bolstered by magic. "You want to give that back to me. You can see it's not magic after all."

"Oh," said Thinning Hair in a low, sleepy voice. "Yeah, I guess not." He started to hand it back.

"She's using mind magic on you, Bill," yelled No Tooth and leaped between us.

I held up my hand, pouring magic from it, lifting No Tooth off the ground.

And then I felt a sharp pain at the back of my skull.

Someone... behind me...

Everything faded out.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I struggled to open my eyes. My head still hurt. It was pounding in the place I'd been hit, pounding in time to the beat of my heart. I groaned.

I was lying face down on rough wood. I raised my face up.

And the world started to shake from side to side.

"Penny," said Lachlan.

I sat up. We were hanging in the air in some kind of makeshift cage that looked like a big box for chickens or something. There were slats of wood around us, letting us see out, letting in the light. Near as I could tell, we were hanging from a tree.

We weren't anywhere near the place where we'd been when I lost consciousness. They must have transported us while I was out.

"What the hell?" I said.

"I just woke up a minute ago," he said. "There were more of them in there. They got the drop on us from behind."

I gingerly touched the back of my head. "So, you don't have any idea where we are?"

"None at all," he said.

"They have us strung up like animals."

"Yeah, they're definitely just a nice wholesome organization who doesn't stand for violence," Flint muttered.

"Bastards," I said. "We have to get out of here." I reached out with my magic. "I can unhook us from the tree, float the cage down to the ground."

"Okay," said Flint. "That sounds good."

A gunshot in the distance.

The bullet slammed into the trunk of the tree, just below us.

We both hit the floor, flattening ourselves there.

"Jesus," I whispered.

Flint raised his head. "They're up there. At the top of the hill."

"Damn it," I said. "That's too far away. It's out of the range of my magic."

"Yeah?" he said. "Well, lower us anyway. They'll have to come after us."

I started to reach out with my magic again.

Another shot.

This one splintered the wood above my head, missing me by mere inches. I let out a high-pitched keening noise.

"You okay?" said Lachlan.

"Yeah," I said in a tiny voice. "Let me try to get us down again." I reached out a third time. This time I was successful. I untied the rope and lowered the box to the ground.

Another bullet burst through the wood.

Inches away again.

I shrieked. "Jesus, it doesn't matter, does it? We can't get out of this box anyway. They'll just shoot us."

"Thus far, they don't seem to be crack shots," said Flint.

"I wish you had magic," I said. "With two of us, we'd double the amount of area we could cover. We'd be able to reach them."

Flint swallowed. "Well, okay. Let me drink your blood."

I drew back. "That would only work if you were a vampire."

He raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

"You're a vampire?"

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Lachlan opened his mouth. He was sporting fangs.

"Oh my God, I can't believe you didn't tell me this," I said.

"I'm not exactly happy about it," he said in a tight voice. "Can I...?" He pointed to my wrist.

I gave it to him.

Another shot burst through the cage.

I dove into Lachlan's lap to avoid it.

He sunk his teeth into my wrist.

It hurt.

I squeezed my eyes shut. "Hurry up." I cringed as I felt the tug of his mouth against my skin, his teeth deep inside my veins. I could feel my blood rushing out of my body, pumping out of my heart, down my arm, through my wrist, and into him.

But then... it was the strangest thing.

I could feel the blood as it left my body, as it flowed into Lachlan, and I could feel myself sort of... inside him, my magic surging into his body, filling him up.

We were connected, as if we were one being.

The sensation was startling. It was powerful. It was good. Almost exquisite. It was as if I had somehow suddenly found my place in the universe, and it was right here, with Lachlan, my blood in him, his teeth in me, the two of us together something larger and more wonderful than anything we could ever be on our own.

I was abruptly aware of everything else around me in the world with crystal clarity.

My eyes were closed, but I could sense every blade of grass, every bud on every tree, every bird in the air, every speck of dust floating in the breeze. I could feel the clouds, the sky, the sun, the coldness of the space and stars beyond us all.

I heard the sound of another gunshot, the bullet's explosion, its movement as it ripped through the air.

But it was just an annoyance. I reached out and plucked it from its path, dropped it to the ground so that it was ineffectual and pointless. I had never thought such a thing was possible. Sure, I guessed theoretically my magic should be able to stop a speeding bullet, but the precision of that seemed—

I heard Lachlan suck in air through his nose.

I opened my eyes to find him staring at me, his mouth still working at my wrist. His gaze burrowed into me, and his eyes were clouded, half-lidded.

I felt like we were suddenly drowning in each other.

Another gunshot, but Lachlan took care of that one, knocking the bullet off course.

I reached out and touched his face. I ran my fingers over his prominent cheekbone, over his jaw, felt the slight prickle of his stubble underneath his skin.

He shut his eyes.

I let out a tiny noise, a kind of sigh.

And then...

Abruptly, it was bad. I could suddenly feel that I was losing too much blood, and there was a dark, inky spike of terror coursing through me. I was sinking. I was going to be swallowed by that darkness, unless—

"That's enough," I gasped. "Stop it. Let me go."

He didn't. He kept sucking, his eyes slammed shut.

"Lachlan." I could hear the fear in my voice.

He disengaged, throwing himself to the other side of the cage. He put his fingers to his lips. His hands were shaking. "Fuck," he mumbled.

There was another shot.

I tried to stop the bullet again, but it was too fast for me. I hit the floor.

The bullet burst through the wood just above my head.

I felt lightheaded from the loss of blood. It felt better to simply lie here. I rested my cheek against the rough wooden floor, closing my eyes.

"Penny," said Lachlan hoarsely.

I grunted.

"You have to help me," he said urgently.

I wanted to go to sleep. I was tired, and the world was all fuzzy around the edges. My heart was beating too fast, my breath was shallow, and my head was starting to pound, and if I just took a nap—

He was shaking me.

I opened my eyes.

"Wake up," he said urgently.

Another gun shot.

He yanked me up out of its path.

I moaned at the sudden movement.

He cupped my face, searching my eyes with his own. "Listen to me, I realize this is my fault. I've never done that before, especially not to a dragon, and you taste... Fuck." He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them. "Look, I don't have time to feel guilty. I will do that after we get out of here. Now help me stop them."

I blinked. I swallowed. My throat was dry. "Okay," I said. My voice sounded like ground glass.

I took his hand.

It was like when I'd had the talismans with Connor and Felicity. I could feel his magic, strengthening mine.

How did that work? He had my magic. Why did his consuming it make more magic? I didn't understand.

But there wasn't time to think about it.

Instead, I reached out, using his strength and my own, and I splintered the cage we were in, just smashed it to smithereens, sending the shards of wood off in all directions.

And then I used my magic to find the guns.

I ripped them from the men's hands, tore them away and made them hurtle through the air. I had the guns land up in the branches of a nearby tree, out of the men's reach.

Then I picked up each of the men and floated them in midair.

Lachlan and I got to our feet.

The men were yelling their heads off, screaming for mercy, calling us all kinds of names.

We approached them, crossing the field until we reached them.

"You maggers!" said one of the men. "Both of you."

"Shut up," said Lachlan. He pointed at the men, and their arms were all forced behind their backs. They tried to speak, but they couldn't. He made a circle with his hand, and the bottoms of each of their shirts ripped off in a long strip. He circled wider. The makeshift ropes wrapped around the men's wrists.

I was still feeling lightheaded. I could feel my magic starting to wink out. I only had so much after each shift, and I had given too much too Lachlan.

I stumbled.

The men all fell to the ground.

They landed on their sides, and they tried to stand up, but they couldn't.

Lachlan just smiled. "Y'all stay down, all right?" He was using his magic to keep them down.

I staggered again, and then I fell down.

"Penny?" Lachlan was alarmed.

There was water over the hill. I remembered it from when we'd been all connected and I had been able to sense everything. It was a lake, not a huge one, but deep enough. I just needed to get there.

I got to my feet, and I ran for it.

"Penny!" he yelled after me.

On unsteady legs, I hurried down the hill, ripping off my clothes. I wanted to have something to put back on when I shifted back.

I dove naked into the lake. Surrounded by water, I let my dragon form take over me, rippling through my body.

As I did, I felt my strength returning. I was healed. I was strong. I was whole.

I surfaced from the lake, my wings dripping water as I rose into the air, climbing into the bright sky, the wind sailing past my sleek form.

* * *

Lachlan and I stood watching the members of the Brotherhood be loaded into police cars.

Apparently, while I'd been in dragon form, he'd called in for backup. By the time I was back in human form, they were pulling up, sirens blaring, lights blazing.

Both of us had spent the rest of the time filling in the officers on what happened.

Well, a very abbreviated version.

I'd let Lachlan take the lead, just agreed with whatever he said.

He'd told them that we'd woken up in the field, and the Brotherhood had been shooting at us. There was no reason to mention the cage, since it didn't actually exist anymore.

Lachlan said that they were terrible shots, which was basically true, and that we'd been able to sneak up on them and get the jump on them.

I was worried about the guns being stuck in the tree, but Lachlan had gotten them down and collected them and handed them over to the police.

After all that, we just stood there together, not speaking.

The police drove away with the arrested men. We watched them go.

Lachlan leaned against his car. He stared at his shoes.

I felt awkward. I didn't know what to say to him. I couldn't help but think about how it had felt when he had his teeth in my wrist, and I wondered how it had felt for him. Obviously, it had been good, because he hadn't stopped right away, and he had said the thing about feeling guilty, but he really shouldn't, because it didn't matter. He'd stopped in time, and we'd been in an impossible situation, and how the hell had I stopped bullets when we were doing that?

I drew a circle in the dirt with my toe.

He took a deep breath and raised his gaze to meet mine. "Listen, I really am sorry—"

"Don't," I said.

He raised his eyebrows.

"I don't want to talk about this." I hugged myself. "I just kind of want to forget it even happened."

He licked his lips. "Okay."

"Let's go see that girl we were going to see. Debby Adair. Let's cross Brody off our list and try to get something accomplished on this case today."

He looked away, his jaw twitching.

I studied my feet. Then stared up at the sky.

He still wasn't looking at me. "I really am sorry. It frightens me that I might have... gone too far—"

"I can take care of myself," I said.

He did look at me then. His gaze was penetrating.

My turn to look away. I only looked back up when I heard the sound of the car door opening.

He was getting inside.

I walked around to the passenger side and got in.

Lachlan reached in his coat jacket and took out his sunglasses. I thought that the Brotherhood had taken them, along with my talisman and my car keys.

He put the glasses on, then reached into his jacket again and brought out my keys and talisman. He handed them over.

"Thanks," I said.

"Figured you'd rather they weren't tied up in an evidence locker."

I put the talisman over my head, tucking it inside my shirt.

Lachlan started the car.

We didn't speak on the drive.

* * *

Debby Adair's eyes were wide. "Oh, gosh, why are you guys asking questions about Brody?"

"We're looking into the Dragon Slasher murders," said Lachlan.

"But Brody didn't have anything to do with that," said Debby. "He couldn't. I mean, he and I spend all our time together. We both work here, and when he's not working, he's either with his family or with me. Trust me, he couldn't get away from his family. And besides, he's a good guy. He's not the kind of person who'd hurt anyone."

"He was angry with the dragons for building on his ancestral home," said Lachlan.

"But not angry enough to kill." Debby furrowed her brow. "Look, Brody's passionate. That's one of the things I love about him. And he thinks for himself, unlike the other gargoyles out there. But he's through-and-through good."

"Thinks for himself?" I spoke up. I almost never talked during these interviews, but I was feeling a little more bold after what we'd experienced that afternoon. "How do you mean?"

"Well, he's not supposed to have a girlfriend," said Debby. "I don't know if you know what gargoyle family structure is like or not."

"We know," I said.

"Well, then you know that they treat men like breeding stock and nothing more. They force them to work, to hand over all their earnings to the matriarch, and they won't allow them to have anything of their own. It's horrible. All Brody wants is to have something of his own. He wants a family and a legacy, just like everyone else."

"And he's going to have that with you?" said Lachlan. "That's why he bought that house?"

Debby drew back. "You guys know everything. You're really serious about looking into him."

"We take these crimes very seriously."

"I promise you," said Debby. "He's innocent. All he's ever wanted is a family of his own, property of his own, a life of his own, free from his family. Now, he's right on the verge of getting it. Why would he do something to ruin that? Why would he throw everything away?"

Lachlan gave her a card. "Call me if he ever does anything that you think you need to report."

She took the card, but she shook her head. "I'll never need this."

* * *

Lachlan squinted at the whiteboard. "Okay, so I'm going to take down Brody's picture. I'm not saying it's not still possible that he's guilty, but I don't like him for this. You agree?"

I nodded. "Yes. Let's take him down."

It was late, sometime after eight o'clock in the evening, and there was no one else in the office with us. The whole room was dark, overhead lights extinguished. Lachlan and I stayed inside the light of his desk lamp, which illuminated a circle only big enough to make out the whiteboard and his empty desk.

"Which leaves us with Otis, Alastair, Anthony, and Killian," said Lachlan, pointing at each of their pictures as he did so. "And we were going to look deeper into Alastair, if I remember correctly."

"Yeah," I said.

"But what with the fact that we now know for sure that the Brotherhood has no problem murdering magical creatures, we've got to wonder about Otis."

I bit my lip. "I guess that's true. Of course, they tried to kill us with guns, and the dragon girls were stabbed to death."

"Right," he said, "that doesn't fit. Still, it doesn't mean that they don't vary their weapons from time to time."

"How would they even have gotten close enough to kill a dragon with a knife?" I said.

"Maybe those girls were drained of their magic?"

"Maybe," I said. "Still, that could take as long as two weeks."

"Well, we know that Dahlia disappeared for a while before she was killed. Maybe that accounts for the time."

I nodded. "I guess that makes sense."

"But we're just spitballing. We don't have anything that specifically connects them to the victims. Or anything that specifically connects Otis."

"So, what now?"

"Well, we'll want to interrogate the guys we brought in, of course," he said. He sighed. "But not tonight, I don't think. I'm not sure I have it in me tonight."

"Oh, are you doing okay?" I said. "Did you get hurt or anything earlier?"

"No, I feel great," he muttered. "I imagine guzzling all your blood has something to do with that." He sank down in his chair, looking defeated. "You should go. Whenever I look at you—"

"What?" I said. "I'm fine. I shifted, and I healed, and—"

"Right, it's exactly like what you said happened with your ex, then?" He laughed bitterly. "Only this time it's me. I hurt you, but you shifted and healed, so it's no big deal."

I stiffened. It wasn't the same. It wasn't. Because... "Look, I chose to allow you to do that. So, it's different. And we were in an impossible situation. And I said I didn't want to talk about this."

"Not talking about things doesn't make them disappear."

"Well, you never talk about the fact you're a vampire."

"And yet, I still am."

I hesitated. Maybe I should leave. Maybe I should simply run out of this place. That might be the only way I could be sure that I wouldn't have to talk about what had happened earlier. But then I'd just be running, and after facing Alastair—after facing Ace Gonzales—well, I wasn't sure that I could stand running anymore.

I took a deep breath. Saying I didn't want to talk about it was just another form of running away, wasn't it? "Okay," I said quietly. "Let's talk about it."

His gaze flitted over to me. He looked surprised.

"I changed my mind," I said. "It's a woman's prerogative."

He raised his eyebrows. And then he barked out a short laugh. "All right, Ms. Caspian, let's talk," he drawled.

"Now I'm Ms. Caspian?"

"Penny," he said, but his voice cracked. He got up and went back to the board. He began erasing all of the words underneath Brody's name.

I chewed on my lip.

It was quiet.

After he erased, he stood with his back to me, turning the eraser over and over in his hands. "I never did that before. I never drank blood that didn't come from a butcher shop."

"Well, you must have once," I said. "Because how else are you a vampire?"

He glanced at me over his shoulder and then he turned back to the eraser. "It was an accident."

"An accident? You accidentally drank dragon's blood?"

"Yes. It was mixed into a soft drink that my partner was drinking, and I had some of it."

"This the partner that slept with your wife?"

"Yeah, that's him. He was a real piece of work." Lachlan set down the eraser. He turned around. "Of course, that didn't happen until after. She fell apart after. I did too."

"After what?"

He laughed again, and it was hollow. He drew a hand over his mouth and chin. "I don't talk about it. I've never..."

It was quiet again.

Finally, I said in a tiny voice, "You're the one who wanted to talk."

He nodded.

More silence.

Abruptly, words started spilling out of his mouth. "I had a stepson. When I met my wife, she had this little bratty kid. He was about ten then, and, uh, he never liked me. And the feeling was mutual. Kid liked his dad, and I couldn't fault him for that. Me and that kid never got along."

I didn't know what this had to do with being a vampire, but I didn't say anything.

Lachlan continued. "But I never thought... I mean, he was bratty, but he wasn't anything special. There weren't any warning signs. Of course, I didn't watch him too close, because I didn't like him, and he only lived with us every other week, because he spent the other weeks with his dad. And his dad was a prick. He was just one of those good old boy Texans who thinks a woman's place is in the kitchen and he... But it wasn't his fault either. After, he was devastated. He never meant..." Lachlan sighed.

There was another long silence.

"What wasn't his fault?" I whispered.

"The kid got a gun," said Lachlan. "One of his dad's hunting guns. A shotgun. By this time, he wasn't ten. He was sixteen. And he was mad. Just angry all the fucking time. Like everyone is when they're sixteen, so who would have thought anything of it?"

Oh, God. I was starting to get an idea of where this was going.

"My wife and I had a little girl," Lachlan said, and his voice wasn't steady. "She was only four years old. But she was in the way, see, because she was mine. And my stepson wanted it to go back, back the way it was, before I showed up. He blamed me. So, he shot me." His voice got gruff. "But he shot her too. My little girl. My tiny, small, sweet, little..."

"Lachlan," I breathed, horrified. I wanted to go to him, to touch him, but I couldn't seem to move. I tried to fathom the idea of a person shooting a four-year-old child.

Lachlan looked up at me. "But I didn't die. Or at least, I didn't stay dead. Because my damned partner had stolen dragon blood out of the evidence locker, because he was a dumb shit. He didn't know that the blood doesn't get you high. No, it's the flesh that does that. So, he was drinking that stuff, and then he didn't even tell me when I picked up that damned cup and put that straw to my mouth. He didn't stop me. So, then, I woke up. And..." His face was haggard, like an old man's. This was the thing that haunted him, that made him gaunt and hollow and distant. "My baby girl. Just... lying there. And the blood..."

I did hug him then. I wrapped my arms around him and I squeezed for all I was worth.

He resisted, pushing at me. And then all the fight went out of him.

We both sank to the floor, and I held onto him for dear life, and his shoulders shook, but he didn't make a sound.

But eventually, he pushed away from me again.

My shoulder was wet.

His eyes were red. He scrubbed at them with the heels of his hands. His mouth worked, as if he was looking for something to say. But then he just gave up. He got up, and he walked out, leaving me alone with the whiteboard.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I opened the door to my apartment, only to be greeted by the sounds of a squeaking mattress, punctuated by sighs and grunts.

No freaking way.

Felicity was having sex and hadn't even bothered to put a sock on the doorknob or something.

I slammed the door as loud as I could, hoping they'd hear it and take the hint.

The squeaks stopped immediately, only to be replaced by giggles.

I couldn't handle this right now. I stalked back the hallway to my bedroom. I slammed that door too, making as much noise as I possibly could. I considered turning on the light in my bedroom, but I didn't want to.

I crossed the room and threw myself face down on the bed.

God.

Lachlan's story was messing with my head. I couldn't handle it. It was too horrible for words. I thought of all the terrible implications of the story. I thought of being mother to a boy like that. What it would mean if my son had shot my other child, had shot the man I loved? I would still love my son, even though he'd done that. But I would hate him as well.

Trying to contain that terrible paradox would make me insane.

I still couldn't see myself having sex with another man.

But maybe it had been too much for her. Maybe she had felt as if nothing mattered at all. Maybe she had blamed herself. Hated herself.

Or maybe she'd simply wanted everyone to hurt as much as she did.

I rolled over on the bed, stared at the ceiling.

I didn't want to think about it anymore. I wished that I didn't know. I wished that Lachlan had just kept his terrible secrets bottled up, because I couldn't deal with them.

There was a knock on my door.

I didn't answer.

But the door opened a bit, and Felicity poked her head in. "Hey." She winced. "Sorry."

I sat up. "Are you dressed?"

She giggled. "Yes. Can I come in?"

I flopped back on the bed. "You don't need to. You can go back to Jensen."

She came inside. "Nah. He left. He's afraid of you."

"Afraid of me?"

"Yeah, because he heard about what you did to The Lost Breed. He thinks you hate vampires. I tried to tell him differently, but considering the way you were when he met you, he's not really buying it."

I sat up again. "Oh, hell." I thought of Lachlan taking a drink of his partner's cup, getting shot, being a vampire. "Maybe I've been a little hard on Jensen."

"You think?" she said.

"Sorry," I said. "I guess I didn't think about how it could have really been accidental for him to have become what he is. Growing up dragon, all the other magical creatures are painted as people who either kill us outright or fund the people who do kill us. But I should have known better. You're different. And you wouldn't have fallen for someone who wasn't different as well."

"That's true," she said. She sat down on the bed next to me. "What brought this on?"

I shuddered. "I just... I heard the most horrible story I think I've ever heard."

"What?"

"Detective Flint? He's a vampire."

She raised her eyebrows. "Pot, meet kettle."

"I'm not into him," I said. "I swear to God, we are only friends. He's very, very screwed up in the head, anyway. More screwed up than me, even."

"What are you talking about?"

I relayed the story to her as quickly as I could, filling in all the details and rushing to end it, because retelling it was like reliving it.

"That is terrible," she said.

"I just keep thinking about his wife," I said. "How that must have felt for her. I keep thinking about my baby, own sweet baby, shooting my other baby—"

"Hey." Felicity grabbed both of my hands. "Don't do that to yourself."

"I can't help it." My first miscarriage had been too early for me to even know that it happened, but the other two had been later in the pregnancies. I'd had to go through labor, deliver their tiny little bodies. Afterward, I'd been able to dress them up and hold them. And this was the image I had in my head, of those tiny little babies all grown up and hurting each other. "I don't mean to think like that. I want it to stop." My eyes filled with tears.

She hugged me. "You're too empathetic, sweetie. You put yourself in that story, but it wasn't you, and it wasn't your children." She pulled back, looking me square in the eyes. "You would have loved your little ones far too much for either of them to ever do anything like that."

"I don't know," I said. "What if that isn't enough? What if that boy, Lachlan's stepson, was born wrong, and there was no way she could have stopped it?"

"Even if that's the case, sweetie, it wasn't you. You've had your tragedies. You don't need to take on other people's as well."

I started to sob. I couldn't help it. I lay down on the bed, and I cried and I cried, thinking of the feeling of a baby moving in my womb, thinking of how much I longed to watch that baby grow up, and how all of it had been stolen from me.

Felicity lay down behind me and held me.

We spooned together there and I cried until I was spent.

Then we were quiet.

"You have to apologize to Jensen for me," I said in a thick voice, wiping at my eyes.

"Shh."

"No, I mean it. You have to." I turned to look at her. "Because I was horrible to him, and I don't want him to think badly of me. And I want you to be happy, Felicity. I want you to fall in love and get married and—" I bit off my words. I knew that being a drake made Felicity sterile. She had died, and only magic was keeping her alive now. Her physical body was not capable of having a child. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay." She smiled at me. "You know that having a baby is your dream, not mine."

"Fuck." I wiped at my tears again. "Let's, um, schedule another dinner, the three of us. So that I can make it up to Jensen. Would he do that?"

She rested her forehead against mine. "I'll make him do it."

* * *

My phone was ringing.

I was asleep, and my phone was ringing.

I groaned, turning over in my bed to reach for it. I answered it sleepily. "Hello?"

"Penny?"

"Yeah?" Last night, after crying my eyes out, Felicity and I had raided the refrigerator, which was mostly full of leftovers from takeout that we'd both gotten. Then we'd pigged out and watched movies and talked girl talk until late into the night. I hadn't gone to bed until... oh, God, I had no idea, but it had been late.

"It's Flint. Uh, Lachlan."

I blinked. And then I was wide awake. "Um, hi. How are you?"

"Good, and you?" he said, as if he was responding to a normal inquiry. Oh, okay. He was going to pretend like he hadn't told me that story the night before. Well, maybe that was a good thing, because I didn't want to talk about it again. Not really.

"A little tired, I guess."

"Did I wake you?" he said. "It's nearly eleven."

"Oh, well, I was up late talking to Felicity." I sat up in bed. "So, what can I do for you?"

"The drake we talked to? Anthony Barnes? He's at the station, says he has some information for us. You want to sit in on the interview?"

"Um, sure," I said. "I'll be there as quick as I can."

"Good. See you soon." He hung up.

I set the phone down. Business as usual. Right.

* * *

"It just came to me," said Anthony, sipping some coffee from a styrofoam cup as he sat opposite us. "I saw her picture on the news the other day, and it was a different picture than the one they usually use, and she looked a bit different. And that was when I recognized her."

"Sophia Ward, you mean?" said Lachlan.

"Yes. Now, I don't think she went by Sophia when she checked in with us. She used some other name, but that's typical for kids to do that, to keep things to themselves," said Anthony. "It was only once, and it was just for the night. The next morning, a man in a flashy convertible picked her up."

"Do you remember anything about that man?" said Lachlan.

"Well, I got a good look at him. He was tall, and he had dark hair, and he was trim and in good shape. If I saw him again, I think I'd recognize him."

Lachlan slid a picture of Alastair across the table at him.

"Yes," said Anthony. "Yes. That's him."

* * *

"Now, don't get excited," said Lachlan. He and I were at his desk now, and he was pacing in front of the whiteboard. "I think it's quite likely that this could simply be Anthony's way of inserting himself further into the investigation."

"Because you think he's the killer."

"I don't know if he is or isn't," said Lachlan. "But he might have simply agreed to any picture I showed him. If he is the killer, he's got motivation to throw us off his scent."

I nodded slowly. "Yeah, I can see that."

"But if he's not the killer, if he's on the up and up, then this is more evidence against Alastair," said Lachlan. "I think we need to go and talk to him again. Are you up for that?"

"Of course I am," I said.

"Because if you thought that it was too much, I would understand," he said. "I don't need your presence to throw him off this time. I can handle it on my own."

"I want to come with you." I got to my feet, folding my arms over my chest.

He smiled. "Good."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Alastair had been in the middle of a workout before we showed up. He was wearing a pair of sweats, and he'd thrown on a t-shirt, which was clinging to his sweaty chest.

His sweat was like some kind of intoxicant to me, and I wanted to punch him for being so male and enticing.

"I already told you, I was looking out for Sophia," he said, pushing hair away from his glistening forehead with one thick, muscular arm.

I remembered the way those arms used to feel wrapped around me. I remembered running my fingers over his solid flesh.

I shivered.

Lachlan shot me a look.

I hugged myself.

Alastair seemed to notice that I was affected. He smirked.

God, he was sexy. I wanted to climb him. I wanted to run across the room, jump at him, wrap my thighs around his narrow hips and put my mouth on those smirking lips.

Lachlan stepped in front of me, as if he somehow sensed my desire and wanted to save me from myself. He took a deep breath. "Look, we know that Sophia's brother didn't ask you to look after her. He seemed to take a rather dim view of you, considering you couldn't keep your own mate."

Alastair's nostrils flared. "You tricked me, Penny. But that's a mistake I won't make again. Trusting you. When I get you back, you're going to be mine forever. I'll never let you out of my sight."

"I'm not coming back," I seethed over Lachlan's shoulder, even though I was imagining what it would be like to peel Alastair's shirt off of his body, let my fingers dance over his sculpted stomach.

"We're not here to talk about that," said Lachlan. "We're here to talk about Sophia Ward. Did you pick her up at the shelter or not?"

"Yes," said Alastair.

"And why? Why were you seen talking with her the night she disappeared?"

Alastair caught my gaze. He smiled a particularly nasty smile. "I was fucking her."

The words slammed into my body like a punch. I stumbled backward. I felt ill.

"Okay," said Lachlan. "Well, Sophia apparently got around, because she supposedly had a rich boyfriend who was the head of an enormous conglomerate."

"No, that was me," said Alastair. "Saying that stuff about me was just our cover story."

I was struggling to recover. It shouldn't have mattered to me. I didn't care about Alastair. I was free of him. I had no hold on him. But the thought of his being with someone who wasn't me... it felt so wrong that it made my stomach twist.

I needed to hold onto something.

I went to the wall. Leaned against it. Tried to keep my stomach from emptying itself all over Alastair's white carpet.

"Deena Walsh, her friend, seemed to think that there was a real connection between Sophia and that boyfriend," said Lachlan. "That she thought they might get married."

Alastair shrugged.

"I suppose, since your mate was gone, you might have considered finding a replacement," said Lachlan.

"I never told her we would get married," said Alastair. "She was young and she was sexy and I needed someone, because I've been pretty broken up over Penny running out on me."

"Oh, so you had to go and stick your dick in a teenager?" I said, feeling even more ill.

"She wasn't a teenager," said Alastair.

"Close enough," I said.

He pointed at me. "You're the one who did this. You left. If you hadn't gone away, I would never—"

"Never what?" said Lachlan. "Never have killed those girls?"

"What?" Alastair turned to Lachlan, angry and confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Sophia was the first," Lachlan said. "We found her body second, but she'd been in the water longer. Chronologically, she was killed first. So, here's what I think. I think that something happened that ticked you off. Sophia screwed up, didn't she?"

Alastair's face twitched.

"Am I right?" Lachlan's voice lowered. "She made you crazy angry, because of something she did. If she wouldn't have done it, you wouldn't have gotten so angry. You controlled yourself as best you could, but in the end, you couldn't help yourself. She deserved it."

Alastair swallowed.

"You ever have to hit Sophia?" said Lachlan. "Just to teach her a lesson?"

"I'm not saying a word to you," said Alastair, his voice barely controlled.

"Oh, come on," said Lachlan. "We both know how it is. Women sometimes do things that make you insane. And she can get in your face. She can slap you. But if you slap her back, well, that's not allowed. How is that fair?"

"Whatever I did," said Alastair. "I didn't kill her."

"I don't think you meant to," said Lachlan. "You only meant to show her that what she'd done was serious, so she'd never do it again. You just went too far."

"No," said Alastair.

"You lost control," hissed Lachlan.

Alastair shook his head. "I don't lose control."

"You did," Lachlan said. "And then once Sophia was dead, you needed a replacement. A younger, more malleable replacement. Elena Watson."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"But she needed to be taught a lesson too, and then you needed another girl. This one would work out, would be exactly what you needed. But Dahlia wasn't right either, was she?"

"I never even met those other girls."

"We both know what you did," said Lachlan. "It's just a matter of proving it. And believe me, Mr. Cooper, I will find the proof. And I'll take great pleasure in putting you away."

"There's no proof to find, because I didn't do it." Alastair's face was red. He was starting to shake. "I think you need to leave, detective."

"I'm onto you." Lachlan pointed at him.

"Get out," said Alastair. Then he turned to me. "Penny, you stay."

"No," I whispered.

"Stay," he said. "You know you miss me. You're even jealous. That means there's still something between us. I still love you. You still love me."

"No." I shook my head. But part of me wanted to stay. Wanted my hands on him, my lips on him, our bodies pressed close together. And that part of myself frightened me. I knew I was stronger than that part, but I just wanted it to go away. As long as it was still there, I had to fight it, and as long as I had to fight, there was always a chance I would lose the fight.

"Penny." He reached out a hand for me.

I turned and fled, running out of the room.

And I didn't stop running until I was out of the house and inside Lachlan's car.

I slammed the door and locked it, and I sat there shaking until Lachlan came back.

When he did, he got in and took his sunglasses out of his jacket. "You okay?"

I didn't say anything.

He paused, midway into putting his sunglasses on his face. He lowered them and surveyed me. "I thought you said you could handle it."

"I can," I said. "But it's hard is all. I thought it would be like other hard things, where it's hard at first, but then after you conquer it a few times, it gets easier. But it's not like that at all. It's not easier."

He sat back in his seat, sucking in a slow breath. "I'm sorry."

I didn't say anything.

He put on his sunglasses. He started the car.

We pulled away from Alastair's house, and the more distance we put between him and me, the better I felt.

* * *

Lachlan surveyed his beer.

We were sitting next to each other at the bar in Duffy's Pub and Grill, because I'd decided to use my gift card. I didn't think Connor would approve, considering that Lachlan and I were just talking about work, but it was kind of like having a social life. Anyway, I didn't know who else I would have taken out for a drink.

Maybe, back before Jensen entered the picture, I might have brought Felicity, but not these days. She was always busy.

"So, Alastair's still at the top of my list," said Lachlan.

"It sure sounded like it," I said. "You lit into him like he did it."

"I thought maybe it might make him crack," said Lachlan. "But it didn't. Guy's too smart for that kind of thing."

"What did you say to him after I left?" I said.

"Not much," said Lachlan. "More of the same, really. Just trying to get him to give me something. But he just kept insisting that he didn't even know the other girls, and that he didn't want Sophia dead. He said he liked her a lot."

"But you were right that he was hitting her. The way he reacted—"

"There's no way to prove that either, though," said Lachlan.

"Maybe she told someone. Maybe we go back to that friend—"

"She wouldn't have," said Lachlan. "Women don't talk about it to friends." He took a drink of beer. "You didn't, did you?"

He was right. I'd been embarrassed, and I'd been too far under Alastair's thumb. He had convinced me that all of it was my fault, and the last thing I wanted was to be berated by my friends. Not only that, he hadn't liked any of my friends. He'd tried to keep me away from them, and he'd mostly succeeded. With the exception of Felicity, of course. No one could separate me from Felicity.

"Besides," said Lachlan. "It wouldn't matter, because the fact that he beat her wouldn't prove that he killed her."

"No, but it would suggest that he was capable, don't you think?"

"That's why we're looking into him," said Lachlan. "No, we need something tangible. We need to find the kill site. We need the murder weapon. So, where would he be doing this? In that house we've visited?"

"Seems too conspicuous," I said. "There are so many houses nearby. And apparently his sister's living there with him. How would he hide the girls there?"

"We should look into other properties, then," said Lachlan. "Does he have another house in the area?"

"No, he hates it here. He hates the beach. I don't even know why he came here."

"Well, that's something to look into," said Lachlan. "Actually, it might help us eliminate other suspects. If we can discover that any one of them doesn't have a place to use to keep the girls captive and kill them, then we'd cross that suspect off. And if I go to my captain with only a few suspects instead of four, that might be progress enough for him to have faith in my capabilities to solve this case."

"Makes sense," I said.

He sighed. "As much as I hate to say it, that might be the best we can do for now. I'd love to find some way to nail Alastair to the wall. But maybe we just eliminate everyone else first. Maybe in that time away, we'll think of something we haven't. Some way to prove he's guilty."

I took a drink of my cranberry and vodka. "We will. We'll think of something."

Lachlan drained the rest of his beer.

We were quiet.

"Uh, thanks for the drink," he said.

"I had the gift card," I said. "So, it's not a a big deal."

"Well, you used it on me," he said. "I appreciate it. I haven't... I've been focusing on work since I moved here. I haven't really made much time to do anything, uh, social."

"Yeah, well, I guess this is kind of work related, anyway," I said.

"Right," he said. He fiddled with this empty bottle. "Anyway, I'm finished, so I guess I'll head out."

"No, stay! You should get another beer," I said. "My treat, of course."

"I can afford to buy myself another beer," he said.

"No, of course you can," I said. "It's only that if I'm insisting you stay, then I feel like I should pay."

"You're insisting, hmm?" He grinned at me.

I looked into my drink, feeling myself blush for some reason. What was that about? This wasn't anything like the way I felt for Alastair. It wasn't all-encompassing and intense. So, that meant that it couldn't be... What was even the word? Romantic? It definitely wasn't that.

He signaled the bartender and ordered another drink.

I finished mine and got one too.

"So," he said, "if we were to talk about something that wasn't work related, something social, what would it be?"

"Um..." I had no idea. Why had he asked me that? "Well, I guess we would talk about our interests or something."

"Like hobbies? You have hobbies? Macrame, maybe? Personally, I build model trains."

"Really?" I said, taken aback.

"No, not really," he said.

"Oh," I said. "You were making a joke."

"Trying to," he said. "Failing, by the sounds of it."

I smiled.

"Little rusty at that." He took a drink of his beer.

"I don't really have hobbies," I said. "Even when I was a dragon—"

"You're still a dragon."

I blushed again. "I know that. I guess I just... sometimes I don't feel like I am. It's like I'm a different person than I used to be."

"I know that feeling," he said. "Have you ever read Kafka's The Metamorphosis?"

"No," I said. "But that's that book about the guy who turns into a cockroach, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he said. "His life is horrible, and then he descends into—"

"Just because I don't feel like a dragon doesn't mean I turned into a cockroach."

"I wasn't saying that. I wasn't talking about you."

"You think you're a cockroach?"

"Maybe more like a mosquito," he said. "Mosquitoes drink blood."

"Oh, right," I said. "You do drink blood, then? I never see you do it. But I guess you must, or else you'd just..." Die. But I found I didn't want to say that aloud.

He looked up at the ceiling. "Sometimes I wonder why I don't stop drinking it. Just fade away."

"Lachlan—"

"Partly it's because it wouldn't be fading away," he said. "It's not like that. If I don't drink the blood, the gunshot wound that killed me reopens. It's painful."

"I don't think you should be thinking about killing yourself."

"No?" He took another drink and smiled at me with mock brightness. "I have so much to live for, after all."

"That's not..." I drew in breath. "That's not the reason we keep on going. Because of having things to live for."

"You don't think so?" he said.

"No. Even if things feel terrible, even if you think you have no one who cares about you—"

"That's not what makes me feel I have nothing to live for," he said. "It's having no one to care about. No one to care for. There's a difference. When there are people depending on you, no matter how rough things are, you keep going for those people. That's probably why you collect strays."

"I wish you wouldn't call them that." I pressed my lips together in a firm line.

He laughed a little. "I don't know what it is you think of me. Maybe you think that because you know all my secrets, you've uncovered some ooey gooey layer deep inside, and that now I'm sweet and cuddly like a stuffed animal with fangs. But you're wrong. I don't know why I get up in the morning, why I keep going, but it's something to do with solving murders. I'm good at it, and it takes up a lot of my time, and that way I don't have to think..." He stood up. "Never mind." He picked up his beer and gulped it down. "I don't think I'm the kind of person who can be social, Penny. Sorry." He dug out a few crumpled dollar bills and set them on the bar.

"Wait," I said. "I shouldn't have brought up—"

"It's not your fault," he said. "It's mine. You..." He shook his head again. His voice lowered so that it was soft and lilting. "I admire you. You've been through hell—"

"Nothing like what you went through."

"What?" He laughed brusquely. "Worse than what I went through. But there's still a... a light in you. A fire in you." He leaned close. "It's in your blood. And when your blood was in me..."

A slow, sweet ache started to travel over my core. I remembered the way it had felt when he had his mouth on my wrist. My mouth felt dry.

He blinked, shaking himself. "I'm leaving," he said, and his voice was ragged. "I think it's better if I stay away from you if we're not working." He started for the door.

I got up and I stopped him, taking him by the arm. "Lachlan, wait."

He gazed into my eyes.

I gazed back, searching in them for that hollow look I'd seen before. But it had been replaced with something else. Hunger. It frightened me. It sent thrills through me.

He tore his gaze away from mine. Without another word, he hurled himself away from me, pushing people aside in his haste.

I was trembling. I turned back to the bar and picked up my drink. I tried to take a drink, but my hands were shaking too hard. It spilled.

I set it down and placed my hands palms down on the bar.

What the hell?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Jensen was laughing. "Geez, Penny, stop apologizing. I told you that it's okay. Really. I've gotten used to it at this point. Being a vampire isn't always easy."

"I know that," I said, taking another drink from my glass of wine, "which is why I'm sorry that my behavior did nothing to alleviate that difficulty."

"You were just looking out for me," said Felicity. "You've always been a mama bear in that way."

The three of us were out to dinner at The Green Fin, a restaurant that specialized in Thai and Vietnamese food along Atlantic Avenue. I'd never been here before, but it had seemed appropriate. And we couldn't very well go back to Lombardo's after the scene I'd caused there.

Felicity had ordered two thick steaks and had them cooked rare. Her plate was full of Thai seasonings and red meat juice now, since she'd eaten them both. "I appreciate the sentiment, but not the mode of operation."

"I really am sorry," I said.

She laughed. "That wasn't meant as a cue for you to apologize again."

"Well, I am sorry, though," I said. I turned to Jensen. "I was out of line. I can't use Felicity as an excuse."

"I'm glad she has someone like you, though," he said. "She needs someone to be in her corner."

I shrugged. "Well, we're best friends. That's what we do for each other. She'd go to bat for me too."

Felicity smiled at me. "I'm so glad that you're not angry with Jensen anymore."

"Me too," I said.

"Because now we can tell you our big news, and you won't get all freaked out."

"Big news?" I raised my eyebrows.

Felicity beamed at Jensen. "We're going to move in together."

I set down my wine glass. "Oh."

Jensen grinned at her, his expression full of adoration. "She's already at my place practically every night, anyway, and I have the extra room, so I figured why not?"

"So, you're moving into his apartment, then?" I said. Felicity would be gone. No more breakfasts together at the Pink Flamingo. No more long talks in the middle of the night. "You're not going to get a separate place?"

"Oh, we'll probably move somewhere else after his lease is up," she said. "But it doesn't make sense to break it, not when I don't really have anything to move in anyway. I've got clothes, of course, but I haven't really acquired any furniture or anything like that. I mean, my whole adult life, I've lived with you."

"I thought you liked that," I said in a small voice.

"I did. I do." She was still grinning. "But I can't depend on your hospitality forever."

"It's not hospitality," I said. "You work at the hotel. Giving you a place to live is part of your wages."

She furrowed her brow. "Are you okay?"

I took a drink of wine. "I never meant to get in the way of your acquiring furniture."

"You didn't." She laughed. "Are you upset about this? You spent all night apologizing to Jensen, so you can't still think that he—"

"I'm not upset." I took another drink of wine. A bigger drink. I forced myself to laugh. "It's, um, a surprise is all."

"Yeah, it is, but a good one," said Felicity. She grabbed my hand. "You're happy for me, right?"

I nodded. "Of course. This is... this is great for you." I looked at Jensen. "For both of you." I took another drink of wine. And then another. And then I just gulped down the rest of the glass. I pushed my chair back. "Um, I'm going to head to the restroom, okay?"

Once alone in the bathroom, I locked the door behind me and stood at the sink, staring at myself in the mirror.

I tried to imagine a life in which Felicity and I didn't live together. Ever since she'd become a drake, she'd lived with me. When I was married to Alastair, she'd come along, and I'd told him that she was the best housekeeper I'd ever had and that I couldn't live without her.

And yes, she'd cleaned my house back then, but I'd never thought of her as a servant. She'd been the only thing that kept me sane. Without her, I didn't think I'd ever have had the strength to leave Alastair.

But had it been fair to her? I'd always thought that I had been doing her a favor, because she was a drake, and she needed somewhere to work and to live, and I had thought that I was helping her out.

I glared at my reflection. "She's not a stray," I muttered at myself.

It wasn't true. I didn't take care of her just to feel as if I mattered to the universe, just to have a reason to live. I thought of her as an equal. As my best friend. But the more I thought about it, the more it did seem as if she was kept by me. Like a pet.

I shut my eyes.

Damn Lachlan for saying that to me. Damn him.

I didn't want Felicity to leave. That was selfish of me. I would miss her, and I was used to having her around.

But I could let her go out on her own.

I could overcome my selfishness.

And I didn't... I didn't need her to need me. Because that was incredibly screwed up, and I wasn't going to believe that kind of thing about myself.

I sucked in a breath and glared at the mirror. "That's the real difference between you and me, Lachlan. You believe the worst about yourself. But I refuse to think that I'm doing anything other than the best I can."

* * *

I stood over Lachlan's desk.

He was intent on his computer screen, reading something on it with a knitted brow. He was so interested in it that he hadn't even noticed my approach.

I set a coffee cup down next to him.

He started.

"Good morning," I said.

"Penny. You scared the crap out of me."

I laughed, sitting down next to him. "What's going on? You didn't get in touch with me yesterday."

"Was I supposed to?"

"Well, I thought I was still helping you out with the case."

"You are."

"So, yesterday, you weren't working on it?" I said. "I thought that it was your number one priority. I thought the captain was breathing down your neck."

He picked up the coffee up and took the lid off of it. He blew on the steaming black liquid. "No, it was only that I was doing boring stuff yesterday. Paperwork. Research. I just didn't want to bother you."

"Oh," I said. "Because I was a little worried. When you left me at the bar the other night—"

"Let's not talk about that." He took a drink of his coffee and then winced. Apparently, it was too hot. "It's been a while since I've had a beer. Must not have much tolerance anymore, I guess. Forget everything I said."

"You didn't really say anything," I said.

"Good," he said. He turned back to his screen. "Truth is, today's probably going to be more boring stuff. Just more research. I appreciate the coffee and all, but I don't need you today."

I folded my arms over my chest. "I can help with research."

He shook his head, still not looking at me. "That's not what I need you for. You're here because you know about magical creatures. I'm just looking into real estate records."

"I can use a computer, you know," I said. "Let me help. It'll go quicker."

He sighed.

"You're trying to get rid of me," I said.

"No," he said. "I swear I'm not." But he was still staring at the screen.

"Look at me and say that," I said.

He sighed again. Then he got up. "Sit." He pointed to his chair.

"I don't need to take your computer."

"Well, I'm already signed in here," he said. "So, you use this one, and I'll go over there." He pointed two desks over. "I'll sign in over there. I'm the one with the login. Makes more sense for me to move."

"Oh," I said.

He pointed to the screen, at the blinking cursor. "You look for any property owned by Killian Henderson," he said. "I'll look into Anthony Barnes. We'll check in with each other in a half an hour?"

"Okay," I said. "Sounds good."

* * *

"What'd you find out?" Lachlan asked me. He was still working on his coffee, but he'd put the lid back on.

"Well," I said. "Killian owns the strip club, of course. And he also owns a big house out on Ocean Pines. I found an old real estate listing for it on the Internet, and it had pictures of the inside. I can show you if you want."

"In a minute," he said. "What's it like?"

"Huge," I said. "It's three stories. I don't know if it's likely that he could keep girls there and kill them without his wife knowing about it, but I think it could be possible."

"Okay," said Lachlan. "What you're saying is that we can't rule him out."

"Not yet," I said. "But he doesn't seem to have a special kill house or something."

"Well, we should go and talk to the wife at some point," said Lachlan. "Maybe then we get some idea of how much attention she pays to his comings and goings."

"Okay," I said. "What did you find out about Anthony Barnes?"

Lachlan shook his head. "Well, believe it or not, Barnes inherited an old house way down near Assateague. The place is pretty isolated. It could be perfect."

"Wow," I said.

"Yeah," he said. "But it's been in the family for a while, and it's in disrepair. It took a beating in the last hurricane that came through, and it's never been fixed up since. I don't know if it's the kind of place where he could really keep someone."

"But we can't rule him out either, then," I said.

"Right," he said.

"And Alastair?" I said. "What about him? Does he have any property?"

"Well, that's what I was looking into yesterday," said Lachlan. "I found out that he doesn't own the house where he's staying. His sister does. But he does own property down here. He's got a big mansion inland, near Delaware. It's not close to the beach, but it's very, very remote. I put in for a warrant to search it, but I don't know if the captain will give it to me or not. I haven't got much evidence, and I know that the department doesn't like to mess with the dragons. No one likes to make enemies of dragons if it isn't necessary."

"But if he's the killer, then the whole dragon community would want to know about it."

"I agree," said Lachlan. "We'll just have to wait and find out what comes of that."

"So, we're no better off than we were at the beginning," I said. "This didn't help us eliminate anyone." I shot a glance at the board. "Oh. Otis. He doesn't own property."

"No," said Lachlan. "He doesn't. I checked into that."

"So, can we eliminate him?"

"He's a member of the Brotherhood. Who showed themselves eager and willing to kill both of us the other day. That area where they were keeping us, that would be a perfect place to kill the victims."

"I guess it would." I chewed on my lip.

"Of course, when they were arrested, the uniforms who came when I called searched the entire place, and there was no sign of any foul play at all. And there wasn't anything that would tie the victims to that place. We even confiscated any weapons we could find, but none of the knives seemed to match the wounds on the victims' chests."

"So, it wasn't them?" I said.

"Doesn't seem likely," he said. "I've been thinking I might interrogate them just in case. See if I can shake anything loose."

"Oh," I said. "You're supposed to be so brilliant at interrogating. Can I watch?"

* * *

The leader of the Brotherhood was No Tooth. His name was actually Raymond Pascal. He slumped behind the table in the interrogation room, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Lachlan, who was sitting across from him, making a show of riffling through a stack of paperwork.

"I know what you are," said Raymond.

Lachlan kept going through the paperwork.

"This is being recorded, isn't it? What do you think the rest of the police force is going to think when they find out you're a bloodsucker?"

Lachlan pulled out two lone pieces of paper. "Why do you think they hired me?"

Raymond looked surprised.

To be honest, I was surprised too. I had sort of thought Lachlan was trying to keep it a big secret or something. I guessed he just wasn't broadcasting it. Didn't surprise me.

Lachlan shrugged. "I came here because this place is supposed to be friendly to magical creatures. And the police force was looking to diversify. Most people are, you know."

Raymond waited a bit and then took the bait. "Are what?"

"Friendly," Lachlan smiled. "You and your people are a notable exception."

Raymond didn't say anything.

"But we're not here to talk about me," said Lachlan. "Like I told you when we met, I'm looking into the Dragon Slasher murders. That's what I want to talk to you about."

"You think we did it, huh?"

"Did you?" Lachlan's voice was level, almost pleasant.

Raymond picked at his front tooth. "Maybe we did. It's not as if we're ever going to get out of jail, is it? Since you claim we tried to kill you, and you're a cop."

"You deny trying to kill me?"

"Cop killers get locked up, and they throw away the key," said Raymond. "I know how it works. So maybe there ain't no reason to be coy about it. But let me tell you what. If I tell you what happened, then I want access to any reporter who wants to talk to me about it. I'm going to use this for the good of the Brotherhood."

Lachlan narrowed his eyes. "I'm not making a deal with you. Anyway, you're not high on my list of suspects when it comes to killing those dragon girls."

Raymond looked offended. "Why not?"

"Well, there's no evidence," said Lachlan. "We searched that place you had me and my associate held captive and we couldn't find a trace of the dragon girls. Where'd you do it?"

"Hey, I'm not admitting to nothing until you admit that I can have reporters."

"This is what I'm trying to tell you, Mr. Pascal. You don't have a bargaining chip. I don't have to offer you anything."

"But we did it," said Raymond. "We killed those girls."

I let out an audible breath outside the room. Really? It was those goddamned Brotherhood bastards this whole time?

Lachlan furrowed his brow. "Where'd you do it?"

"You don't believe me?"

Lachlan shrugged. "It seems to me that you've got nothing to lose, Mr. Pascal. You might admit to anything for publicity."

Raymond bared his teeth, and suddenly, he looked like a caged animal, as if something feral and dangerous within him was about to break loose. "Of course you didn't find any trace. We cleaned up after ourselves."

"Where'd you do it?"

"Ten feet from where we almost killed you."

"You did it with a gun?"

"No. We drowned them. We knocked them unconscious and poured water over their mouths and noses, and we got rid of those stupid dragon bitches. They deserved it, little whores. Dancing around in the clubs, pretending to be human when they were nothing more than poison. The dragons destroy everything wholesome, and we had to teach them a lesson. We would have killed them all, given enough time. Exterminated their race from the earth. And then the magic would stop."

"You drowned them," said Lachlan. "And they didn't use their magic on you?"

"Weren't you listening?" said Raymond. "They were knocked out."

"Why didn't you kill me and my associate that way? Sounds a bit more effective than using guns," said Lachlan.

Raymond looked at his fingernails. "Well, it wasn't exactly... me who did the dragon girls."

"So you're not confessing?'

"I saw it," said Raymond. "I witnessed him doing it. But I didn't do it, because I didn't like to get up close and personal like that. Not because I'm squeamish or nothing, just because it seems like it's dangerous, you know? What if those dragon girls had woken up and started using their magic on Otis."

"So, Otis did it?"

Raymond flinched.

"It was Otis," said Lachlan softly. "He killed them."

"He hates dragons," said Raymond in a small voice. "Dragons killed his little baby sisters."

Lachlan sighed. "You all witnessed Otis doing this?"

Raymond nodded.

"Did you help him?"

"How do you mean help?" said Raymond. His voice raised to a wheedling pitch. "Look, if I seen him do it, can't I be a witness for the prosecution or something? Trade my testimony for putting Otis away?"

Lachlan let out a low chuckle. "So, you haven't accepted that you have nothing to lose after all?"

"Do I have a bargaining chip now?" Raymond smiled an ugly smile, his missing tooth prominent.

Lachlan got up from his chair. "How about you write this all up for me, hmm?" He slid a piece of paper across the desk along with a pen. "Write it all up, everything you remember, and then we'll talk." He left the interrogation room, joining me outside.

I looked through the window at Raymond, who was gripping the pen and starting to write.

Lachlan leaned into the wall, resting his head against it. He closed his eyes. "I wasn't expecting that."

"You believe him?"

He opened his eyes. "You don't?"

"I..." I wrapped my arms around myself. "I thought that Alastair..."

Lachlan pushed away from the wall. "You would have liked that. It would have been convenient for you if he was put in jail and he could never bother you again."

I massaged my elbows. "I really thought it was him."

Lachlan turned and looked through the glass at Raymond.

Convenient? Had really just said that it would have been convenient for me to have my ex-husband be a murderer? I let my arms drop. "You're always saying horrible things about me to my face."

Lachlan looked back at me. "What are you talking about?"

"You said that I pick up strays and that the only reason I care about people is so that I have people to take care of, so that I can feel important."

"What?" He shook his head. "I'm fairly sure I never said anything like that."

"And now you're accusing me of trying to make Alastair guilty for my own selfish reasons."

"I'm not accusing you—"

"Fuck you, Lachlan Flint."

He raised his eyebrows.

"I'm leaving," I muttered. I turned and stalked away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Felicity was boxing up her things when I got back to the apartment.

I felt like crying.

I didn't. I poked my head in and asked if she needed any help.

She put me to work folding up her jeans and putting them in a suitcase.

"I didn't think you'd be leaving so soon," I said as I folded. I was perched on the floor, piles of jeans on hangers around me. Who knew she had so many pairs of jeans?

"Just getting a head start. I figured it doesn't make sense to wait, anyway," she said. "Because I'm always sleeping over there anyway. It would be nice not to have to pack a bag every time."

"Right," I said. "I guess you feel like you already live there."

She shoved aside a stack of jeans and sat down next to me. "Don't sound so excited about it."

I sighed. "Sorry. I'm happy for you. I really am. I want you to have this, and I don't need to keep you around just so I have a reason to live."

"What?"

I rubbed my temples. "Something stupid Lachlan said. I can't stop thinking about it."

"Oh, so now it's Lachlan, not Flint."

"Shut up. I just thought we should be on a first name basis if we were going to work together. But I'm pretty sure I just quit, so it doesn't matter."

"You quit?"

"Not exactly. But I told him to go fuck himself, so I imagine he's pissed."

"Well, he must have done something."

"We found an eyewitness to the murders today," I said.

"Oh, that's good."

"Well, it is, but the killer isn't Alastair. And I thought it was him. I really thought it was." I picked up a pair of jeans and began furiously folding them. "And Lachlan said it would have been convenient for me if it had been Alastair. He made it sound like I was going after Alastair for personal reasons."

"Maybe you were. If he wasn't really the killer—"

"Well, someone should go after him, because of all the shit he did to me. He hurt me. He broke my arm once. Do you remember that?"

"Yes," she said softly.

"But I erased the evidence. I shifted and healed myself and pretended like it never happened, and now he's not getting punished at all."

"You want him to be punished?"

"I want..." I slammed the jeans into the suitcase and buried my face in my hands.

Felicity patted my back.

I raised my face to look at her. "I want not to be attracted to him anymore. But I always will be. Because of the stupid mating bond, I'll always want him. And it makes me sick."

"Even if he'd been the killer, you still would have been attracted to him."

I sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

She reached out and snagged one of my hands. She squeezed it. "Just call the detective and apologize. I'm sure he'll get over it."

"I'm not apologizing to him. He's the one who said that you were a stray I collected."

She drew back. "What?"

"Yeah," I said. "He said that people don't keep on going in the face of tragedy because someone cares about them, but because they have someone to take care of. He said that I was able to have a light inside me because I had people like you and Connor depending on me."

"Oh," said Felicity. "Well, maybe that's kind of true."

"No, it's not," I said. "I don't need you to live here. I can let you go. I can let you move out and start your own life. I care about you. I didn't become your friend just for some selfish reason, so that I could feel important."

She laughed a little. "You're twisting it all up."

"Am I?"

She nodded.

"But I'm going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss you too," she said. "But you'll still see me. I'm still going to work here. And whenever you need me, you just call me, and I'll talk you down, just like I'm doing now."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She smiled. "It's not just you taking care of me, you know. I do my share of taking care of you too."

I smiled back. "I know that."

Felicity hugged me. "Stop freaking out, all right? Everything is going to be just fine."

* * *

"So, then I asked if I could buy him a drink," said Connor. "And he said that he wasn't interested. Just looked me over and stuck up his nose."

"What a dick," I said.

Connor and I were behind the counter. It was nearly midnight. All the guests were checked in, and it was quiet. We had vacancies, just like we usually did this time of year, but it was unlikely anyone would walk in this late on a weeknight.

"Yeah," said Connor. "But do you think it was because I was a gargoyle?"

"Who cares why he was a dick," I said. "He was one. So why he did his dickish dick move is not even important."

"I just think that there aren't enough gargoyles in the gay community, mostly because people are afraid of what their matriarchs will say, and I think that other gay guys are turned off by gargoyles."

"You can't think like that."

"But I do."

"Well, shut that down," I said. "You are a gargoyle. You can't change what you are. If you have thoughts like that, it's only going to lead to a bad place. So, the minute a thought like that crosses your brain, just tell it to take a hike."

He laughed. "But what if it's true?"

"It's not," I said. "And even if it was, it's the kind of truth you need to ignore. You're going to meet someone amazing someday, Connor. Trust me."

He eyed me. "Are you being this optimistic because something's blooming between you and that detective?"

"No," I said. "There's nothing between us. I'm not even going to work with him anymore."

"Seriously?"

"He found the murderer today, so I'm done. The case is closed. The end."

"Oh. Who did it?"

"Some crazy slayer who hates dragons. He's convinced that dragons killed his sisters years ago, and he hates the whole race. He joined the Brotherhood, and they helped him out, and he killed those girls."

"Whoa, that's horrible."

"Yeah," I said.

"But don't you think that the police might need your help with other cases? Didn't that detective want you to be like a consultant that he could call whenever he needed help?"

"Well, I don't think I'm going to do that." I squared my shoulders. "I'm busy with the hotel, after all."

"You are not busy." Connor made a face. "Did you have a fight with him or something?"

"Not exactly," I said.

He drew back. "Oh my God. You guys got it on, and it was bad."

"No!" I shoved Connor. Not hard or anything. Not that it mattered. He was a gargoyle. He was made of living stone.

"Is he a bad kisser? Did he prematurely ejaculate? Does he have a tiny penis?"

"I don't know," I said. "I have not kissed him or seen his penis or had sex with him."

"Sure, you haven't."

I rolled my eyes. "You know what, I'm about to just leave you alone down here and go to bed."

"But there's no TV," he whined. "You're going to replace that, right?"

"I am," I said. "See, I've been so busy with this case that I've been letting things slide. If I hadn't been hunting a murderer, I would have bought a TV."

"I can buy the TV," said Connor. "Just give me the money, and I'll go pick it up tomorrow."

"I'll do it," I said. "I want to be useful." I eyed him. "Actually, you know what? You take the rest of the night off. I'll watch the lobby."

"No way," said Connor. "If I tried to go out right now, everyone would already be trashed, and I'd never catch up. Besides, it's a weeknight in March. Nothing's going to be open for much longer. Just forget about it. I'll be fine here. Go to bed."

I sighed.

* * *

But when I did get to bed, I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned and went over every single recent conversation I'd had with Lachlan. I started to realize that I might have been putting words in his mouth, and I felt like maybe Felicity was right. Maybe I did owe him an apology.

I began drafting apologies in my mind, lying on my back and whispering them to the ceiling.

Tomorrow, I would call him, and I would tell him I was sorry.

But as the hours crept by and I couldn't stop thinking of things to say to him, I eventually began to feel as if I wasn't going to be able to sleep unless I called him.

It was late, nearly two in the morning, but I snagged my phone and dialed his number.

It rang.

And rang.

What was I doing? This was stupid. I was going to hang up.

"Penny?" said Lachlan's voice. He didn't sound like himself.

"I woke you up, didn't I?"

He laughed. "No. No, I'm awake." His voice was slurred. He sounded like he'd been drinking.

"I, uh, this is a bad time, but I just wanted to apologize."

"You want to come over?" he said.

"Come over?"

"I'll give you my address," he said. "Plug it into your GPS and come over. I would come see you, but I don't think I can drive." He laughed again.

"Are you okay?"

"Great," he said. "Better than great. Come over. I have whiskey."

Well, it wasn't as if I was sleeping, anyway. But drunk Lachlan sounded strange. I wasn't sure if it made any sense at all to go see him. I should have told him no.

But I got his address, and I drove over.

He met me at the door. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. "Penny," he said.

"Um, listen, I should just make you some coffee and help you sober up."

He grabbed me and pulled me inside. He shut the door and pushed me back into it. And then he pressed his body into mine, his lips into mine.

I was stunned. I went rigid, letting him kiss me, but not responding.

His lips were soft against mine. His tongue pushed into my mouth, and it tasted sweetly of liquor and promise.

A jolt of goodness went through my body. I let my tongue touch his.

He sighed. And then he pulled back. He laughed, looking sheepish. "Sorry. I shouldn't have..." He stumbled away.

I looked around his apartment. We were in the living room, but he didn't have any furniture. It was just an empty room. Bare walls. Carpet.

He wandered through the doorway, away from me.

I followed him.

We emerged into the kitchen, which was similarly bare. There was a card table in the middle of the floor, flanked by one metal folding chair. There was a half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting in the middle of the table.

He seized it and handed it to me.

I took it. I took a drink. Why not? The liquor burned down my esophagus. "Are you okay?"

He reached out a hand for the whiskey bottle.

I handed it back.

"You asked me that on the phone," he muttered. "You asked me if I was okay. And I told you. I'm great." He looked around for the folding chair to sit down. But he missed it completely and landed sprawling on the floor, his hand with the bottle in the air. He burst out laughing. "Saved!" he declared, scooting the whiskey back onto the table. He doubled over, laughing and rolling on the floor.

I knelt down next to him. "You really don't have much tolerance, do you?"

He lay flat on his back and looked up at me. "You're upside down," he told me.

I rocked back so that I was sitting. "I'm going to go."

He scrambled into a sitting position. "Don't go. You just got here."

"You're... very drunk."

"Yes," he said. "Sorry about that. I've been trying not to drink lately, trying so hard."

"Do you have a problem with drinking? Because when we were at the bar, you said you didn't drink, but was that because—"

"I'm not an alcoholic, Penny." He sighed. "I've just been having a hard time lately. I keep feeling all this... pain, keep remembering that everything in my life is fucked. Drinking helps. I keep thinking about..." He tried to reach the whiskey but couldn't. He stared at the palm of his hand instead. "Thinking about her. "

I waited.

He didn't say anything.

"Thinking about who?" I finally said, but I was fairly sure I knew.

"Hallie." The name was charged with emotion. His voice cracked. He reached on top of the table. This time, he managed to get the bottle of whiskey. He took a big gulp of it. Grimaced. Shivered. Took another gulp. Another grimace.

"Your daughter?" I whispered.

He nodded. He set the bottle down and wiped at his mouth.

"Because I made you talk about it the other day? I brought it all back up, didn't I?"

"It isn't your fault. I don't need to talk about it for it to start..." He tapped his temples. "All kinds of things bring it up. Sometimes, I see the moon, and I remember this book we had when she was tiny, and how she'd point to the picture of the moon until I said, 'Mr. Moon.' And then she'd giggle." A ghost of a smile on his face. "The way it sounded when she laughed..." The smile faded. He crawled over to the other side of the room, grabbed the kitchen counter and hauled himself to his feet.

I stood up and went to him. "Lachlan—"

"Don't." He put his finger against my lips. "I don't want to talk about her."

"Okay," I said.

It was quiet.

I put my hand on his arm. "Well, maybe you should go to bed. Have some water and lie down?"

He tried to smile at me, but he only looked haggard now. Tired and haggard and sad. He shook his head. "No, I can't. I'm not drunk enough. I'm trying to drink enough that I just pass out, but no matter how much I drink, it doesn't seem to be enough."

"Maybe if you lie down, it will be," I said.

He kissed me again.

It surprised me. I hadn't been expecting it.

This time, his mouth was more thorough. His tongue swept into my mouth, bold and clever, as if he belonged there.

I clutched his arms. I tried to push him off, but I found myself kissing back, even though this was ridiculous. He was out of his mind, and he didn't know what he was doing, and if I let him do this, I'd be taking advantage of him. I was the one who was thinking clearly. Or at least I had been before he started kissing me like that.

My body felt weak, felt tender. It was a slow awakening, nothing like the obvious intensity of my arousal with Alastair. This was tentative, but nice. So nice.

His lips left my mouth. He kissed my chin, my jaw, my neck.

Thrills went through me. I gasped.

His hands were inside my shirt.

"Lachlan," I said again.

He nipped my neck. His teeth—

I slammed my open palm into his chest, pushing him away from me. "No," I said.

He ran his tongue over his fangs. Then he shut his eyes and closed his mouth. When he opened both his eyes and his mouth, his fangs had retracted. He looked shaken. "I'm sorry," he said in a dead voice. "I wouldn't have—"

"Sit." I pointed to the chair. "Go over there and sit down."

He rubbed his face. Then he hobbled across the room and fell into the chair. He reached for the whiskey bottle.

I hurried over and swept it out of his grasp. I went back to the sink, unscrewed it, and proceeded to pour it all down the drain.

"Hey," he protested, but there wasn't much fire behind it.

"You've had enough," I said.

He hung his head.

I leaned against the sink. For some reason, my pulse was pounding, and I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm it. "What the hell?" I finally managed.

He slowly raised his gaze to meet mine. "I'm sorry."

I folded my arms over his chest.

"I'm not good at this," he said.

"Good at what?"

"At..." He gestured at me and then at himself and then back at me. "Look, in the past, when I've needed—wanted—a female distraction—"

"Distraction?" I said.

He flinched. "That's not what I meant." He dragged a hand over his face. "I just mean that I've got this face, and women usually..." He cringed. "Look, can I start that again?"

"Women usually fall all over you?"

"I wasn't going to say it that way." He sagged in the chair. "Look, I'm drunk, you're very pretty, and—"

"Shut up, Lachlan." My pulse was still racing.

"I should have realized that you wouldn't want to kiss me. That you're different than all the other women I've ever—"

"It's not about the kissing," I said, feeling frustrated because I had liked kissing him, and I probably would have fallen all over him if he hadn't... I drew in another unsteady breath. "You almost bit me."

"I wouldn't have."

"You were about to."

He parted his lips.

I put the empty bottle in the sink. I crossed the room to him. I looked down at him. "Could you stop when I told you to stop? Because last time, I thought you weren't going to stop."

He swallowed hard. "Penny," he rasped. "You can't..."

My pulse hadn't calmed down at all. It was crashing away just beneath my skin. "Only a little bit," I whispered. I moved my hair away from my neck, baring it to him.

He licked his lips. He looked up at me and his eyes were hungry, the way they'd been in the bar.

A little thrill shot through me. What the hell was I doing? It was crazy. Why would I let him—

He stood up and grasped my shoulders.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I could feel his breath on my skin. Then the whisper of his lips. Then a sharp tug of pain.

And then...

Bliss.

That feeling of being one with him, of knowing everything, seeing everything.

It was as if we floated up through the ceiling of his apartment into the apartment above, saw the neighbors sleeping in bed, saw their cat curled at their feet. And then up another floor to a bare apartment, roaches climbing over the linoleum, and then through the roof, into the night air, past the trees, shooting for the sky, everything streaking by me, wrapping me in euphoria as we traveled for the heavens, for the stars, for the—

He let go of me.

We both went sprawling.

And I was just ordinary me again, sitting on the floor of his apartment, and everything seemed dingy, and my head hurt.

He stumbled backwards and stood up. There was red on his mouth. My blood, dripping in the crease of his—

His tongue darted out and licked it up.

Something inside me convulsed in pleasure. What? I liked that? I liked him drinking my blood? No, I was losing it. I was losing my mind.

He help up a finger. "Holy fuck, Penny." His voice was clear as a bell, no slurring at all.

"You don't sound very drunk now." Cautiously, I stood up.

"You shouldn't have let me do that."

"I know." I put my hand to my neck and brought my fingers in front of my face. They were wet with red blood. "Shit," I breathed.

"Why did you let me do that?"

I looked at the blood. It was so damned red. "It just... It feels..."

He shot across the room and grabbed my wrist. He put my fingers in his mouth, licking them clean.

I let out a tiny noise.

He dropped my hand as if it burned him. "What the hell are you doing to me?"

"I'm not doing anything."

"Get out," he said.

"But..."

"Get out." His voice was a growl.

I backed away from him.

He turned so that he wasn't facing me, sinking both of his hands into his hair.

From behind, I could see the muscles in his back rippling beneath his t-shirt. He was stronger than I had imagined, and his body was very nicely shaped, and...

I ran out of his apartment as fast as I could.

In the car, I adjusted the rear-view mirror so that I could look at my neck. There were two neat little holes there, and they were already scabbing up. They didn't hurt, but they were so... conspicuous.

Damn it.

I went back to the hotel, but I didn't go inside. Instead, I ran to the beach and threw off my clothes. I dove into the water and shifted.

So that I would heal. So that I could hide. So that no one would know what I'd let him do.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Someone was banging on the door to my apartment.

I felt like I had just gotten to sleep only minutes ago. I groaned. I threw aside the covers, yanked a robe over my pajamas, and went out to open the door. I wished Felicity was here. She could have answered the door. But she had spent the night at Jensen's, so I was out of luck.

I opened the door.

Lachlan was standing there wearing his sunglasses. He had on a suit and button-up shirt, but no tie.

"Um, hi," I said.

He pushed the door open and grasped my robe, pulling it away from my neck.

I slapped his hands off, backing away. "What are you doing?"

"Did I fucking dream it? Did you come to my house last night?"

I put my hand over my neck. "I shifted. I needed to... erase it."

He let out a low, nasty chuckle. "Well, that's convenient. Can you erase my memory of the taste of your blood? Can you?"

I folded my arms over my chest. "Don't talk to me like that."

He shut the door to my apartment and leaned against it. "I'm sorry." He looked up at the ceiling. "God damn it, Penny, what the fuck were you thinking?"

"You kissed me," I said. "More than once."

"I was drunk."

"So, that's an excuse?"

He took off his sunglasses. His eyes were bloodshot.

We looked at each other.

"I'm sorry," I said in a small voice.

He folded up his sunglasses and stared at them. "No, I'm sorry. I was... I was out of line."

"What was out of line? What are you apologizing for? For yelling at me now? Or for last night? And which part of last night?"

"Everything," he said.

I swallowed. "I didn't know it was bad to drink my blood. I thought you liked it."

"I don't want to like it." He shoved his sunglasses inside his suit jacket. "I don't want to think about it every time I'm near you. I don't want to smell you and remember—"

"You can smell my blood?"

"No, it's just that you have a smell. Like everyone has a smell. And you smell like something flowery—"

"It's probably my deodorant."

"Whatever." He glared at me. "When I smell it, I think about how your blood tastes."

"Is it like strawberries?" I said, thinking of Ace Gonzales.

"No," he said. "It's not like anything. It's like blood. It's just..." He crossed the room and went over to my window. He pulled aside the curtain. "When you become a vampire, nothing tastes the same after. Everything's a little bit bland. Except blood. That has these nuances of coppery flavors, little accents and sparks..." He sighed. "Your blood is the best thing I've ever tasted. Ever." He let the curtain drop.

"Oh," I said.

"Oh?"

I shrugged. I didn't know what to say.

"Don't ever let me drink it again," he said.

"But..." I bit down on my bottom lip.

"But nothing," he said.

"It's only that I like it too, you know, and that's the only reason that I let you—" I swallowed. "But you're right. It's weird, and it's gross, and I should never have ever let you do it in the first place, and from now on, we'll keep our distance from each other. Don't kiss me anymore."

"Of course not," he said. "I was drunk is all." He looked at his shoes.

I squared my shoulders. "Okay, then. Well, let's not talk about this anymore, because it's... awkward and embarrassing."

"Good." He looked up at me. "Good, we'll forget about it."

I nodded.

He nodded.

It was quiet.

I fingered the edge of my robe.

He got his sunglasses back out of his suit jacket.

I pointed back the hall. "I should, um, get dressed?"

"Oh." He looked me over, seeming to register the fact that I was in a robe. He blushed, looking down at the floor. "Uh, I'm going in to the office now. If you want to, um, meet me there after you're, you know, dressed, that would be, uh..."

"Should I bring coffee?" I said.

"Yeah," he said. "Good." He crossed the room to the door. "That would be good."

"Okay," I said.

"Okay," he said. He put his hand on the doorknob.

We were still staring at each other.

"Well," I said, gesturing behind me. "I'm just going to go and, um, put on some clothes."

"Yeah," he said. He looked at the door. "I'm going to..." He pointed.

"Yeah," I said.

"So, I'll see you." He turned the knob and the door opened. He was halfway inside the doorway and halfway out. "I'm going to go."

"Bye," I said.

His head bobbed. "Bye."

We were frozen there for several more agonizing seconds.

And then he flung himself out of the door and shut it behind himself.

He was gone.

I stood in the middle of my living room, feeling confused.

"Forget about it, Penny," I muttered to myself. "He said we should forget about it."

Right.

I headed back the hall.

* * *

Raymond Pascal was back inside the interrogation room and Lachlan was sitting across from him.

"I just want to go over some details," said Lachlan. "I want to know more about how you murdered those girls."

"I didn't do it," said Raymond. "Otis did."

"Right," said Lachlan, shrugging.

"Hey, you aren't trying to pin this on me, are you?"

"I need details, Raymond," said Lachlan. "Can I call you Raymond?"

Raymond made a face. "What do you need to know?"

"Well, about the drowning," said Lachlan. "That's all that happened to the girls?"

"Should something else have happened?"

"You tell me. You were there."

"Uh, well, I have no idea," said Raymond. "I told you everything that I saw."

"Uh huh," said Lachlan. "Well, I'll tell you something Raymond. There were wounds on the victims, things we kept from the press, and if you actually saw them murdered, then you would know what they were."

"You don't believe me still?" Raymond was incredulous. "But you said you realized I wasn't some guy with nothing to lose, ready to say anything for publicity."

"Exactly," said Lachlan. "Now you think you can leverage your accusation of Otis for a lesser sentence or something. So, you're even more likely to lie. The wounds."

Raymond narrowed his eyes.

"What kind of weapon was used on the girls?"

"Well, a, um, a knife."

"To do what?"

"Stab them."

"Where?"

Raymond was quiet. Then his eyes gleamed. "All over."

Lachlan didn't say anything. He just waited.

"Yeah, all over," said Raymond. "After he drowned them, Otis took a knife and just started stabbing those girls. Stabbed them up and down and in and out and every which way. It was like he lost his head."

Lachlan still waited.

"He stabbed their stomachs and their legs and their chests and their arms and—"

Lachlan stood up. "Thank you, very much, Raymond."

"What?" said Raymond.

"It's only that it's obvious that you didn't see the murders after all."

"Oh," said Raymond. "That was wrong, huh?"

"That was wrong," said Lachlan.

"Did they even have wounds?"

Lachlan turned and walked out of the room.

"Maybe I could try again," Raymond called after him. "It's kind of fuzzy, on account of it being so traumatic and all. Maybe if I thought it through, I'd remember it better."

Lachlan left the room and shut the door.

I smiled at him. "That was good. You were good. You really are good at that."

He furrowed his brow. "That was nothing. I should have sniffed that out yesterday."

"I thought it was good," I said. "Don't sell yourself short."

He jammed his hands into his pockets.

"Well," I said. "Now what?"

"Feel like paying a visit to Killian Henderson's house?"

"Sure," I said.

"All right," he said.

Then we just stared at each other.

Yeah. Still awkward.

* * *

"Killian's not here," said the woman at the door to his McMansion. It wasn't exactly remote, since it was set in a housing development of other huge houses, so if Killian was murdering girls out here, it might be likely that other people would hear them scream. On the other hand, they might simply mind their own business.

The woman at the door was a drake. Her nose had been swallowed up in purple scales. It was flat, nothing more than two nose holes. Her eyes were purple too, with reptilian-looking irises. Her lips were human, though they looked as if they'd been surgically modified, because they were too big for her face. Overall, somehow she still managed to look alluring, not monstrous.

"You Killian's wife?" said Lachlan.

That was right. Killian had said his wife was a drake.

The woman smiled. "That's right. My name's Lucy. But like I said, Killian's not here, so—"

Lachlan took out his badge.

"Oh," said Lucy in a different voice. "What's going on? Is Killian in trouble? Is he okay? Oh, God, don't tell me he's dead or something."

"No, nothing like that," said Lachlan. "Maybe we could come in? We'd like to look over your house."

"My house?" she said.

"Look," I said, "when your husband is home, how much time do the two of you spend together?"

"A lot," she said. "We eat together, and then I watch TV and he plays games on his laptop while he's sitting on the couch with me, and that's what we do every evening."

"He doesn't work at the club in the evenings?" said Lachlan.

"No, I put a stop to that," said Lucy. "He met me while I was dancing there, what's to stop him from meeting some other girl? I told him he can only be there in the mornings and the afternoons when all the fugly chicks are working."

Lachlan and I exchanged a glance.

"Well, okay," said Lachlan. "So, you spend a lot of time together."

"We do," she said. "What is this about?"

"Are there parts of the house that are considered his?" I said. "Parts that you are expected not to enter?"

"Well, he does have a little man cave," she said. "But I can go in if I want. You want to see it?"

"Definitely," said Lachlan.

Lucy opened the door and let us inside. She shut the door behind us. "Honestly, I don't know what it is that you want to know."

"It's probably nothing, ma'am," said Lachlan. "The more I hear about this, the less I'm convinced that your husband is involved."

"Involved in what?" said Lucy.

"Well, we're looking into the Dragon Slasher killings," said Lachlan.

"What? But Killian doesn't even know those people." She was incredulous. She stalked through the hallways of the house.

We had to walk quickly to keep up. Strangely, though the house seemed large from the outside, it seemed to have the same number of rooms as any typical house. It was only that all the rooms were three times larger.

We went through an enormous living room, a gigantic kitchen, and down a set of wide stairs.

We emerged in one big room, a wide screen TV on the wall, a sectional couch in front of it complete with built-in cup holders and snack trays.

"Well," said Lucy. "This is it. His man cave."

Lachlan turned around in a circle.

I looked around too. This didn't look like a place a man could keep three women in succession, let alone a place that he'd killed them.

The television screen had a screen saver on it. It seemed to be shuffling a bunch of personal photographs of Killian. Mostly, it was him with his arms around topless drakes and gargoyles, all of them grinning at the camera.

So, it was okay for her husband to pose with half-naked women, then?

Because Lucy wasn't batting an eyelash at that.

Lachlan shook his head. "I don't think he did it here."

"He didn't do it at all," said Lucy. "He wouldn't."

Lachlan nodded at her.

I squinted at the screen. "Oh my God," I muttered.

"What?" said Lachlan.

"That's Dahlia Brooks." I pointed to a picture of a girl posing with Killian. She was wearing clothes, although they were pretty skimpy. She was kissing him on the cheek, and he was laughing.

The picture changed.

"Where are these pictures coming from?" said Lachlan to Lucy.

"Um, his computer hard drive," she said. "It's hooked up to the television. Look." She sat down on the couch and took out a keyboard and mouse. When she jiggled the mouse, a desktop appeared.

"Can you find that photo again?"

"He's got thousands of pictures on here," she said, but she was navigating to the folder where the pictures were kept. She started to scroll through the thumbnails.

I got closer to the screen.

"There." I pointed. "Stop."

Lucy stopped.

"Open this one." I pointed.

She did.

A different picture of Dahlia filled the screen. She was holding a beer and sticking her tongue out at the camera.

"Oh, Jesus," said Lucy in a small voice. "That's one of those girls. The one that was missing. The one whose body they just found."

"I take it you didn't know her," said Lachlan.

Lucy was shaking her head, her fingers at her lips. "Why does he have a picture of her?"

"Could I copy these pictures?" Lachlan produced a thumb drive, connected to his keychain.

"I-I guess so," said Lucy, who still looked stunned.

Lachlan sat down on the couch and plugged the thumb drive in. We watched and waited as the photos copied over.

Lucy was shaking.

The copying was finished. Lachlan pulled out the flash drive. "Where's your husband right now?"

"At the club, but—"

"Thank you for your time, ma'am." Lachlan motioned with his head for me to follow and headed for the steps.

I went after him.

"But wait," said Lucy, standing up. "What does this mean? Did he do it?" She was horrified, stunned, destroyed.

Lachlan went back to her. He laid a hand on her shoulder. "Listen, we don't know what it means. Try to calm down. But in case of the worst, maybe you should pack a bag and have someplace to go that he doesn't know about. Then—if you decide to confront him—do it in a public place."

"Oh." Lucy let out a little sob, shaking her head.

"Only as a precaution," said Lachlan. "We don't know anything yet."

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Killian was behind the bar inside the strip club. It was nearly noon, and it was empty inside, only one customer up at the main stage where a drake in lingerie was jiggling her hips. I guessed that during the day, the strippers were all drakes, considering gargoyles had to be stone in the daylight.

"You two," said Killian. "Damn, I was hoping that you'd found someone else to harass."

"We just came from your place," said Lachlan.

"You were at my house?"

"Yes, we had a chat with your wife—"

"Wait a second, what gives you the right to—"

"Why do you have photos of Dahlia Brooks on your hard drive?" said Lachlan.

Killian's face turned white. "Damn it."

Lachlan raised his eyebrows. "I don't know if I'll find more photographs if I dig deeper, Mr. Henderson. I'm not sure if there are pictures of all of the girls there. Your wife didn't mind that we copied your photos onto a flash drive, so you can bet I'll be looking."

"No, there's no one else," he said. "I mean, there are pictures of other girls, but there aren't any pictures of the other victims." He ran a hand through his hair. "I knew Dahlia. That was why I went to the search party. I was worried about her."

"Why didn't you tell us that before?" I said.

"I knew her pretty well," said Killian with a sigh. "In a way that my wife wouldn't have been happy about, if you know what I mean."

"You were having an affair with her," said Lachlan.

"She was young and crazy. She wanted to break all the rules," said Killian. "She said that she was so bored of doing the proper dragon thing, and she wanted to play around in the muck a little bit." He looked at Lachlan. "If a girl like that wanted to play with you, could you say no?"

Lachlan shrugged. "I'm fairly sure that when you get married, you make a promise to say no to girls like that in favor of your wife."

Killian laughed a little. "Fair enough. But listen, I'm not guilty of anything other than infidelity. I would never have harmed a hair on Dahlia's head. I worshiped her. And the other dragon girls? I never met them. To be honest, knowing that she's dead, it's been weighing on me a lot. No one knows about our relationship. I can't just show up at her funeral, you know? How am I supposed to grieve?"

Lachlan just blinked at him.

Killian sighed. "Please. You gotta believe me. I didn't hurt anyone. I swear it."

* * *

"You believe him?" I said. We were sitting in Lachlan's car, which was still parked in the parking lot behind the strip club.

"I actually do," said Lachlan. "It was thin, anyway. He has no connection to the other girls."

"Well," I said, "does that mean we cross him off the list? Have we crossed Otis off the list?"

"I don't know." Lachlan rubbed his forehead.

"Who's that leave?"

"It leaves Alastair," said Lachlan.

"And the drake social worker," I said. "You still think it could be him, right?"

"Oh, hell, I guess we need to go out and look at that house of his," said Lachlan. "You up for doing that?"

"I guess," I said. "But are we allowed to do that? I mean, do we need a warrant or something?"

"Well, it's abandoned and falling down," he said. "I just want to get an idea if it's the kind of place that could possibly be used to kill someone, that's all."

"Look, why don't we divide and conquer?" I said. "You go check out the house for the drake, and I can go back and talk to Deena Walsh again. See if I can shake anything loose from her that might help us get a warrant for Alastair's place."

"What do you think you could get from her?"

"I don't know," I said. "But if I tell her that Sophia's boyfriend was actually Alastair, maybe she can remember something else about that. Maybe she saw them somewhere. Maybe she's got evidence of the two of them together?"

"None of that is going to get us a warrant."

"So, what do we need?"

He scratched his chin. "We need something that would make it likely that the crimes were committed there. And it's got to be good, because no one wants to get on the bad side of the dragons. So, stuff that might fly with your average citizen just doesn't cut it when we're dealing with them."

"All right," I said. "Well, maybe I'll just go over there, then."

"What?" he said. "I can't ask you to do that."

"Well, I'm his ex-wife, and I can look around and if—"

"If you find anything, it won't be admissible in court."

"No, I wouldn't take anything. But if I found something suspicious, couldn't I write up an, um, affidavit or something, and wouldn't that help get the warrant?"

He sighed. "Maybe."

"So, I'll do it."

He rubbed his forehead. "No, no, I don't think you should. It's a bad idea, because it could bite us in the ass later on. If a prosecuting attorney finds out that Alastair's ex-wife is investigating him, it's not going to look good. The truth is, I've been backing off on Alastair because I think you're too close to it. And now, what with us... with, um..." He gestured at me and then back at him. "With whatever happened—"

"I thought we were going to forget about that?"

"The fact is, it's probably personal for me too." He leaned back against his headrest, studying the car's ceiling. "I don't like that guy."

"But he's guilty," I said. "He did it. It had to be him."

"Probably, yes," said Lachlan. "But we don't want to blow this. So, let's just go out and look at the drake's house together, and then we'll try to come up with a plan of attack for Alastair. But I warn you, Penny, if we get down to Alastair, and there's no one else we're looking into, I'm going to have to ask to be taken off the case."

"Why?" I said.

"Because of the personal thing," he said. "Like I just explained."

"Well, then," I said, "it shouldn't matter if I do go over there. Because if I find something incriminating, then we just get ourselves taken off the case. But it would be good to move forward instead of looking into all these people who didn't do it."

He licked his lips. "That doesn't even make sense."

"Take me back to the hotel," I said.

"Not if you're going to do something stupid."

I pressed my lips together.

"Penny, don't go to Alastair's place. Promise me you won't go."

I sighed.

"Penny."

"Fine," I said. "I won't go."

* * *

But I went anyway. I had to go.

I couldn't handle this anymore. After that big fake-out, thinking it was Otis and that Alastair hadn't been guilty, I was shaky. That had been emotionally devastating, but now I knew it wasn't true, and that meant that Alastair was guilty after all. Just like I'd always known deep down.

I had to find evidence, and I had to stop him, and I had to get him locked up.

Somehow, I had to do it, because I was the only person who truly knew him. Deep inside, Alastair was evil, and I knew it. He was more than capable of killing. I thought of all the times that he had come within inches of killing me. Something had always made him hold back, but I had been his mate, as Lachlan had pointed out once. He would have thought I was special.

It took me a good forty-five minutes to drive up to Alastair's inland house near Delaware.

When I got there, I found it at the end of a long winding driveway, nestled in the woods, far away from anyone else.

But the house wasn't finished.

It had a roof and walls, but there was no siding. The doors hadn't been put on. The windows hadn't been installed.

I wondered how Lachlan had missed that. Maybe he had only found property records and a building permit. Maybe he hadn't seen pictures or anything.

I parked my car, and I wandered up to the front of the house.

Once this place was finished, maybe it would be impressive, but when I looked through the door, I could see that the interior was only framed out. There were no walls inside, just boards nailed up. They reminded me of prison bars.

I stepped inside.

He still could have done it here.

This was actually a perfect place.

I wandered through what would be the foyer into another large room. I had no idea what this room would be made into. The floor was only poured concrete. There were a few tarps laid out on the floor.

That was what Alastair could have done. Laid out tarps, killed the girls on them, and then wrapped them up and taken them out to be dumped in the ocean.

Alastair had a boat that he could have used.

I walked through that room and into another big room. This one had a wall of cutouts for windows that would overlook the woods.

Leaves had blown in, and they were scattered all over the floor.

I nudged one of the leaves with my foot.

There, beneath it, was a reddish brownish stain.

Blood?

I knelt down to get a closer look. I didn't want to touch it, because I didn't want to mess up the evidence...

Actually, maybe Lachlan was right. Maybe I shouldn't be here. Maybe I would leave a stray piece of hair somewhere and they would find my DNA and wonder why I was at the scene.

"I'm screwing everything up," I muttered to myself.

I took a picture of the stain, though. I hoped this was the evidence we needed. If I showed it to Lachlan, though, he was going to be angry with me, and maybe for good reason.

I didn't bother to walk back through the house. I climbed out of the window cutouts and walked back to my car.

Which wasn't by itself anymore, because another car was parked next to it.

Crap.

Alastair's sister Elizabeth was standing next to my car, her arms folded over her chest. "What the hell are you doing here? How do you even know about this place?"

"I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have come."

"No, you definitely shouldn't be here," she said, advancing on me.

I backed up. "What are you doing here?"

"I come here sometimes," she said.

"To an incomplete house with no walls?" My pulse was starting to pick up speed, and my thoughts were moving quickly as well. Elizabeth had never really liked me that much. She was fiercely loyal to her brother. But I knew how proper she was, and the thought of her brother with women who were not his mate must have made her crazy. Maybe she blamed those girls.

"Well, it would have walls if you hadn't left him," she said. "He was building this place for you."

"Yeah right," I said. "Alastair never built anything for me. And he hates it here. He hates the ocean."

She lifted her chin.

"You're the one who likes it here," I said. "You're the one who convinced him to come here this spring. I bet you didn't like it when he started taking up with those underage dragon girls, did you?"

"Oh, believe me, I did not," she said. "And that's your fault too. If you would just come home and stop acting like a spoiled brat—"

"What did you do about it? Did you bring them out here under some kind of pretense? Maybe you told them that this house would be theirs someday. Where's the knife?'

"What are you talking about?" She looked truly puzzled.

"You're good," I said. "But I see through you. And I found the blood stain on the floor in the back room. Once they test that, they'll know everything, and you'll go to jail." Except I shouldn't have said that, should I have? Because now Elizabeth was going to come for me, and she was going to hit me over the head and kill me just the way she'd killed all the other girls, and no one would ever find out what I knew.

"Blood stain?" She furrowed her brow. "You were always melodramatic, Penny. Just like you were always claiming that Alastair hurt you, but there were never any bruises."

"Because I shifted to heal myself," I said. "I'm not being melodramatic. You killed Sophia Ward and the others."

"What?" She took a step backward. "No, I didn't. Why would I do that?"

"Because Alastair was sleeping with them."

Her eyes widened. "I knew about Sophia, but all of them? Really?"

"Well..." I chewed on my bottom lip. This wasn't going well.

"I didn't kill anyone," she said. "And I'm not going to listen to this. I don't have time for this." She rolled her eyes and strode back to her car. She got inside and tore back up the driveway.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Oh, thank God. She hadn't killed me.

Maybe she hadn't killed anybody?

I called Lachlan.

"So help me, Penny, if you tell me that you went to Alastair's house anyway—"

"I did," I said.

He groaned. "I shouldn't have left you alone."

"Well, it's not actually even finished. It's just all framed out. But I think I might have found a blood stain."

"You kidding me?"

"I took a picture. Should I send it to you?"

"Okay."

I sent the picture. I waited.

"Got it," he said finally. "I don't know, Penny. That might not even be blood."

"I know," I said. "I started realizing that by walking all over the place in there, I might be leaving my own DNA at the scene, which would be stupid."

"Incredibly stupid," he said. "Look, I'm almost out to Anthony Barnes's house. I'm going to poke around, and then I'll call you back if I see anything here, okay? Just let the Alastair thing go for now. We'll turn our evidence over to someone less biased, and then maybe they'll be able to figure it out."

I sighed. "Um, I ran into his sister up here. Which is weird, right, for her to drive all the way out to a house with no walls?"

"Might be," he said.

"And she never did tell me why she was out here in the first place. I know that she wouldn't have liked Alastair having an affair with a dragon that wasn't his mate. She would have thought he was being improper. It would have made her furious."

"Okay, so...?"

"Well, maybe she should be a suspect."

"You think she killed girls because they were sleeping with Alastair and being improper?"

"And making her entire family look bad," I said.

"Uh huh." He didn't sound very convinced.

It sounded kind of stupid now. Maybe I hadn't been thinking clearly because of being so surprised to see her out here. "Okay," I said. "Well, I guess call me after you take a look at Anthony's house."

"Will do." He hung up.

I got back in my car, feeling sheepish. I drove the forty-five minutes back home.

* * *

Lachlan never called me back. I thought back over the conversation, and I couldn't remember if he'd said he was definitely going to call me after looking over Anthony's place or if he was just going to call me if he found anything suspicious.

I called him again.

It went straight to voicemail. I wondered if he was still out there, if Anthony's house was so remote that he couldn't get a signal or something.

I was kind of bored, and there was nothing to do at the hotel. Connor was asleep for the day. Felicity wasn't around. She must have been with Jensen somewhere. I hung out in my office, paying some bills and doing paperwork.

I tried to call Lachlan again.

Nothing.

Huh.

Well, maybe I could just go out there and meet him.

Only problem was that I didn't know where the place was.

I went to the police station and went to his desk, thinking I could find it on his computer somehow. But I couldn't even log on to his computer, because I needed a network password.

If I was really a consultant, then I should have a network password, at least I thought so.

I really should just go back to the hotel and wait. This was a bust. Maybe I should go out and buy a new TV, because I had promised Connor that I would get one.

But there was a Wal-mart out pretty close to the shelter where Anthony worked. And maybe I'd just go by there on my way...

And do what? Ask him where his old, abandoned family house was?

That wasn't cool. Lachlan didn't even have permission to be there.

But maybe I could figure out some way to find out the location, just bring it up in passing or something, and maybe he'd give me a clue about where it was. If I could get an address, I could find directions on my phone...

I did need to get that TV, and this was right on the way.

But when I got to the Wal-mart, I decided I'd get the TV after.

I went inside the shelter.

There was a pretty girl sitting at the desk. She was wearing several different magical charms on chains around her neck. She had a piercing in her nose that connected to a piercing in her ear. Both of them were charms as well. She was a mage.

I wanted to give her a piece of my mind about using dead dragons to fuel her own magical skills, but I kept my mouth shut.

"Can I help you?" she said.

"Is Mr. Barnes available?" I said.

"Let me check. I'll call him. Who should I say is asking after him?"

"Penny Caspian. I'm with the Sea City Police Department."

The girl raised her eyebrows.

And then I caught sight of the earrings in her earlobes. They weren't charms. They were rubies in the shape of flames. They were Sophia's earrings. I remembered seeing them in the picture on Facebook, noting that they were one of a kind. "Where did you get those earrings?"

She touched one. "Oh these? Actually, Mr. Barnes gave them to me."

"He did?"

"Yeah, sometimes he's so sweet. It was my birthday, and he said he saw these and thought of me."

"Did he say where he got them?"

She shook her head. "Nope." She picked up her phone. "Hold on, I'll call him."

"Actually," I said. "Never mind. I don't need to talk to him after all. I just remembered that I have an, um, appointment right now. Really important. So, I'll just have to come back another time." I was backing away from her.

"Oh," she said. "Okay. Well, should I have him call you?"

"No, no, that's fine," I said. I hurried out of the shelter as quickly as I could.

Shit, shit, shit. Lachlan had been right about Anthony Barnes this whole time. He was inserting himself into the investigation. The only way he could have gotten those earrings is if he had taken them from the victim. And to have the gall to give them as a present to a girl that worked his front desk? He really wasn't worried about getting caught, was he?

And Lachlan was out there at that house, and he wasn't answering his phone, and—

Damn it.

I dialed him again. My palms were starting to sweat. He was probably in danger. Anthony Barnes probably had him and was—

But no, because Anthony Barnes was here. His assistant had been about to call back to his office.

"Hello?" said Lachlan.

"Oh, thank God," I said. "You're okay."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because... oh, I don't know, I thought maybe—it's not important. Anthony Barnes is the killer."

"What? Why are you saying that?"

"You remember that picture of Sophia Ward that we looked at? She was wearing a pair of ruby earrings. They looked like flames. I recognized the work, because I had a piece made by that artist. The artist never makes duplicates. Those earrings are one of a kind."

"I take it you just saw these earrings?"

"Yeah, on a girl working at the shelter. She said that Anthony gave them to her."

Lachlan was quiet.

"You were right all along," I said. "He's some creepy person who's inserting himself into the investigation, and he's the murderer."

"Didn't Barnes come in to tell us that Sophia stayed at the shelter one night?"

"Well, yeah, but you said he might just be making that up to cast suspicion elsewhere."

"But if he was telling the truth, then maybe she left the earrings there, and that's how he got them."

"Maybe," I said. "I guess that could be it, but... Why are you saying this? Is there no way that the house could be used for the murders?"

"Oh, I don't know about that. I got lost out here. I was following my GPS, but then I lost my cell signal, and I've been driving around forever trying to find myself."

"So, you haven't even seen the house?"

"No, not yet. And I got your call, but my data connection is crap. Look, if I give you the address, can you plug it into your maps program and get me the directions?"

"Yeah, no problem," I said.

"Great." He gave me the address.

I put it into my phone, and the directions popped up. "This doesn't look that difficult."

"Just tell me what to do from Route 50," he said.

I relayed the directions to him.

"Okay," he said. "And that last part again?"

I repeated it.

He didn't respond.

"Lachlan?" I said. I took the phone away from my ear. Call ended, it said. Damn it. I dialed Lachlan again.

Voicemail.

Jesus Christ.

"I'm just going to go out there," I said out loud, as if I was trying to convince myself it was a good idea. I looked around the parking lot of the shelter, at the rows of cars. Did one of them belong to Anthony Barnes?

Or had he left the office, unbeknownst to his assistant? Maybe he was lurking out there near his house, and maybe Lachlan's phone had cut off because—

I tried to call Lachlan again.

No dice.

Forget it. I was going after him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

It didn't take me that long to follow the directions and get out to Barnes's house. I didn't even understand why Lachlan had gotten lost. Of course, maybe it was because he wasn't from around here. I'd been to Texas once on a vacation with my grandparents, and I remembered that all the roads out there were interstates or big four-lane highways. Even out in the middle of nowhere, they had good roads. I figured it was because Texas hadn't been settled in the 1600s by people riding horses like in New England.

Anyway, Lachlan's inability to follow directions and to get lost in Maryland was neither here nor there.

He'd apparently figured it out anyway, because his car was parked in front when I arrived.

Anthony's house was definitely old and definitely in disrepair, but it was standing and solid. It was swathed in tall trees, but none of them had started to bud yet, so their branches were bare, crisscrossing the sky.

The house had a high roof and a porch that wrapped around the entire place.

There was nothing on the front porch, though. It was empty. The windows were boarded up.

I parked my car next to Lachlan's and got out. "Lachlan!" I called. I got out my phone and tried calling him again. I still had service, but his phone went directly to voicemail again.

I felt nervous. Something just seemed a little off to me. Maybe I should call the police for back-up.

But then I thought about being convinced, just an hour ago, that Elizabeth was the killer, and now I was sure I'd been wrong about that. I was probably overreacting.

Squaring my shoulders, I climbed up onto the porch. The wood creaked under my feet. "Lachlan!" I called again.

There was no response except the wind in the branches above.

I made my way across the porch. The wood was bloated and gray, the pieces warped as they jutted up against each other. I tested each step before putting my weight down. It just didn't seem sturdy.

But I managed to make it to the door.

I tried it.

Locked.

Oh, of course. Of course it was locked. Because if Anthony Barnes really was the killer—and he was, at least I thought he was—then he wouldn't want to let anyone into this place.

I scampered back across the porch.

And my foot went through one of the boards with a loud, splintering crash.

I fell flat on my face.

Ouch.

It hurt, pain shooting up from my ankle all the way through my leg, little stings on my arms and hands where I had caught my fall.

I howled.

I pulled my foot out of the porch and cradled it. Damn it.

Now, certainly Lachlan had to have heard that. He'd come running from wherever he was.

I waited.

I could hear the sounds of insects in the woods, a low-level sort of chirping noise that I realized was underscoring everything.

Lachlan never appeared.

I managed to get up. I hobbled off the porch and down to the ground. I tested putting some weight on my foot. It wasn't too badly hurt. I took a few more careful steps. Okay, I could walk normally. Good.

I started to walk around the house. "Lachlan!" I called again.

And then I stopped.

He should have heard me already.

But he hadn't.

So... what did that mean?

I took another slow step, peering around the house.

The back of the house came into view.

The wraparound porch continued. There was a ramp up to the back door.

Which was standing open.

Oh.

Okay, so what should I do? Because if Lachlan hadn't heard me, and the door was open, then did that mean something had happened to him?

I fumbled with my phone. I really should call for that back-up. Even if I looked like an idiot, I needed to cover our asses, because for all I knew, Anthony Barnes was here, and he'd captured Lachlan, and maybe—maybe—

I dialed with shaking fingers.

It didn't work.

My phone had no service.

No. Damn it. No.

I tried again.

Nothing.

It had worked in the front of the house. Maybe if I went back there...

I hurried back around the house, but my phone still didn't work.

I went over to my car. Nothing.

Standing there right next to the car, I considered that maybe the best thing to do would be to drive out of here until I could get service and call the police.

But what if something happened to Lachlan while I was doing that?

I took a deep breath. "Okay, Penny," I whispered. "You are a goddamned dragon. You burned a vampire gang leader to death, and you can handle this."

Right.

I stalked forward, walking back around the house, stepping up on the ramp and striding over the porch and into the house.

I emerged into a dark kitchen. It was old. It had rusty appliances that looked like they'd been installed in the 1950s. The linoleum was cracked and peeling in spots.

But there was a strong smell of bleach, as if someone had been cleaning in here. Funny, I couldn't figure out where. Everything looked filthy.

I tiptoed through the kitchen, gathering my magic as I walked. If anyone jumped out at me, I'd blast them.

Once I made it through the kitchen, I entered a hallway. There was a doorway to the living room to my right. The room was empty except for a moth-eaten couch against one wall. The room had wood paneling. Light streamed in around the boards on the windows, illuminating dust in the air.

I turned left and went down the hallway.

After about four feet, I came to a door on my left. It was cracked open a bit.

I pushed it open.

Inside, the room was completely dark.

I couldn't see anything for a second, and then I made out the outline of a toilet and an old claw-foot tub. A bathroom.

I backed out of that room.

I continued down the hallway.

There was another doorway, across the hall. The door stood wide open, but it was pitch black inside.

I poured a bit of magic down my arm, into the palm of my hand. And then I was holding a small flame, like a torch. The flickering light illuminated the room, which wasn't a room at all.

At least... it didn't have a floor.

There was just water.

It was an indoor pool. This was the bleach smell, I realized. Chlorine.

What the fuck?

I shone my makeshift torch around the room some more, and I made out a ladder at one end. The pool was half the size of a normal sized pool, and I couldn't figure out why anyone would want a pool in here.

The door was odd too, I realized. It was made of thick steel, like some kind of industrialized door in a factory or something. The walls of the room seemed to also be reinforced.

Why would anyone make a room like this?

Whoever had done it did it more recently than the rest of the house. This wasn't something that had been made in the 1950s. This was much more recent.

I backed out of the pool room, shaking my head.

None of this made any sense.

I looked down the hallway, back into the living room.

And then I started further back the hallway.

Wait.

That wasn't right.

There was something in the living room. Something was on the couch.

I turned back, and sure enough, there was a figure on the couch. No one had been lying there before. I was sure of it.

Wait. Was that Lachlan?

I started for him. "Lachlan!" I called out.

A streak of movement from behind me.

I whirled, shooting fire at the movement, throwing balls of heat and light and smoke in the direction of the danger.

"Fuck!" A painful-sounding curse.

But before I could see what damage I had inflicted, something bit into my arm.

I looked down to see that a strange metal shackle was around my wrist. It was covered in glowing runes, and I felt...

Cold. My magic, it was...

Anthony Barnes loomed in front of me, his teeth bared. He had another shackle in his hand, and he brought it down on my other wrist.

I tried to throw fire at him.

But all of my fire, all of my magic, it was gone.

"These shackles are seeded with dragon sacrifice," he said to me.

The strongest kind of magic.

"How else do you think I kept those girls from getting away?"

"You are the killer," I said.

He shrugged. And then he grabbed a piece of wood that looked like it might have come from the porch. He raised it above his head.

I tried to duck.

But there was only pain.

And darkness.

CHAPTER THIRTY

"Penny," whispered Lachlan's voice.

My head hurt. My foot hurt from where I'd fallen outside. And the shackles at my wrist felt like icy knives digging into my skin. I forced myself to sit up. To open my eyes.

We were in a tiny, dark room. There was one window, which had been boarded up from the outside, and a little bit of light seeped around the cracks. A bare twin-sized mattress lay on the floor in one corner.

"Tell me you called someone," he said. "Tell me someone knows where we are."

I shook my head. "I didn't have service." I felt around in my pocket. It was empty. "I guess he took our phones."

Lachlan sighed. "What are you doing out here, anyway?"

"I was worried about you. When your phone cut off, I thought that maybe he had gotten you. I guess I was right."

"No, when my phone cut off, it was just because I lost service," he said. "He didn't get me until later."

"Oh," I said. "Well, even though I couldn't call anyone, people will know where we are, right? You told someone you were coming out here."

"No," he said.

"Well, they'll go through your property searches," I said. "They'll find us."

"Maybe," he said. "But we shouldn't wait for that."

"What are we supposed to do?" I held up my wrists. "He took my magic."

"What do you mean?"

"These shackle things. They're seeded with dragon sacrifice. It makes them the most powerful talismans. Dragon sacrifice is how they made the gargoyles, you know."

"So, we just get them off you?" he said. "Or I drink your blood again?"

"Don't you still have magic from the last time you drank my blood?"

"I don't think so," he said. "I kind of wanted it out of my system. I sort of used it all up."

"It won't work drinking it now," I said. "The shackles are sucking up all my magic. There's nothing to get from me."

"So, we're back to getting them off you." He eyed them. "They don't look that tight. Maybe you can slide them off."

I tried. They were definitely not coming over my thumbs. "They sort of snapped on. Like handcuffs."

He seized my hand and surveyed one of the shackles. "Looks like they come off with a key. There's the lock. Maybe we can pick it."

"Can you do that? Pick locks?"

"I never have, but necessity is the mother of invention and all that," he said. "How hard can it be?"

"Great," I muttered.

He looked around the room. "What the hell can I use to pick a lock?"

I bit my lip. "You think this is where he kept them? Sophia and Dahlia and Elena?"

Lachlan was on his feet, stalking around the perimeter of the room. "Probably. We need something like a paper clip."

"I don't see any paper clips around here." I hugged my knees to my chest. "He said that he put these shackles on them. It made them powerless against him. But I can't figure out what that pool is for."

"Pool?" He raised his eyebrows.

"You didn't see it?"

"I didn't make it into the house. I got up on the porch and that was it. He must have been hiding in the woods or something." Lachlan had made an entire circuit around the room. "Nothing to pick a lock in here." He pointed at me. "Does your bra have an underwire?"

"No," I said. "I'm not even wearing a bra. I have on like a tank top with a shelf bra."

"What does that mean?"

"That there's nothing metal on me," I said.

"Well, damn it," he said.

"Sorry," I said. "Underwire bras are really uncomfortable to me."

"You don't have to be sorry." He turned in a circle, looking around the room. Then he went to the door and jiggled the doorknob. "Had to try that. If it had been unlocked, and we hadn't tried it—"

"That would have been too good to be true."

He rested his forehead against the door. "All right, he's got to have the key on him, right? We'll get it from him."

"Just ask him for it?"

"He's a drake," said Lachlan. "Did you say that drake's blood—"

"Is practically as good as dragon's blood to give vampires magic," I said. "So, if you can drink his blood—"

"I'll have magic," said Lachlan. "I can pin him to the wall and force his pockets to empty themselves."

"Okay," I said. "Well, I guess we just wait for him to come back, then."

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

But he didn't come back for a long time.

The light that was coming in through the boards around the windows grew dim and turned orange and then red and then disappeared.

It was pitch black, and it was cold out here. There was no heat in the house, and it was still getting down into the upper thirties sometimes at night. I didn't know if it was quite that cold, but as the night wore on, we got progressively chillier and chillier.

I shivered on the mattress, my teeth chattering.

Lachlan paced in the darkness.

"So," I whispered eventually. "Do you have body heat?"

"What?" he said.

"I mean, technically, you're dead, right? So, does that mean you're cold?"

"Not when I have blood in my system," he said. "If I don't get blood, I get cold, the wound that killed me starts opening back up... I die again."

"Oh," I said. "So, when was the last time you had blood?"

"On the way here. I had some in the car."

"So, that means you're warm?"

"Oh," he said. "You're cold."

"Never mind," I muttered, hugging myself tighter.

But then he was on the mattress with me, and he draped his suit jacket over my shoulders. His arm went around me, and the heat of him was nice.

"You should have said something," he said in a rumbling voice.

I burrowed against his chest, feeling heat fill me. I wasn't sure if it was the shackles around my wrists that were making me feel so damned cold or what. But this was very good, being close to him.

And then I felt self-conscious. Because this was sort of intimate, I supposed, and things had become somewhat complicated between him and me, and I wondered if I should pull back.

Not a chance. I was freezing my ass off.

"Better?" he murmured.

Oh my. That voice—that lilting soft voice, this close to my ear. I sucked in breath. "Yeah, I'm not so cold now."

"Good," he said.

It was silent. I tried to think of something to say, because I was becoming more and more aware of his body, the heat from his skin coming through his thin shirt, and his arms seemed strong, and this close to him, I could smell him, and it was a sort of mingling of sweat and soap and comfort, and I really kind of liked it, and—

"How did you not know the thing about body heat?" he said. "You're supposed to be a magical creatures expert."

"I don't know. You're the only vampire I've ever really been friends with," I said.

"Ah. I guess most of your knowledge comes from the fact you have close friends who are magical. That, and the fact you're a dragon."

"Exactly."

"Well, I'm glad I have body heat. You're really freezing."

"I think it's these shackles," I said. "They take my fire, and they make me feel cold all over."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I wish there was more I could do. Some friend I'm being right now."

"This is good," I whispered. "I need this."

"Yeah?" His voice was husky. "Least I could do."

I gazed into his eyes, and he gazed back.

His lips parted.

I looked away.

We were quiet again, and I felt both more comfortable and more confused. Because there seemed to be an edge of something decidedly more than friendly in all of this, but I wasn't sure that I wanted to call attention to it. And besides, we'd been captured by a crazy serial murderer, so it wasn't really the time to delve into it. And on top of that, the last person to be on the mattress was dead now, and—

"I've been thinking," said Lachlan.

"Yeah?" I was glad for the interruption to my thoughts.

"He doesn't know I'm a vampire," he said. "I think he thinks I'm dead. I think whatever he did to me, he didn't just knock me unconscious. He thought he killed me."

"Then why are you in here with me?"

"To screw with your head. He thinks that he threw you in here with a dead body. Can you imagine how horrible that would be? What that would do to a person? Leaving her overnight with something dead?"

I felt bile rise in my throat.

His arms tightened around me. "You're still shivering."

"Maybe more because of what you just said."

"It would have been awful for you."

"He's a monster," I said. "He's twisted."

"No question," he said. "And I think, when he comes back, we should pretend that I am dead. I'll lie here motionless, and you act as if you've been sharing the space with a corpse all night, and that's how I'll jump him."

"That's a good plan," I said.

"I hope so," he said.

And I let my eyes close. I felt much warmer now, and I was exhausted. It had been such a horrible day. But being close here, sharing our heat, it was better now, and I thought, maybe, I might be able to just relax for a little bit.

* * *

I woke up tangled up in Lachlan's arms. At first, everything was fuzzy. I didn't know where I was, only that I was close to him, which seemed right somehow, and I nuzzled into the crook of his neck and shoulder.

He stirred next to me, his arm tightening around my waist, pulling me close against his body.

"Mmm," I sighed, slinging my leg over his hip, pressing into him.

A noise.

There was someone walking up the hallway, and—

I sprang away from Lachlan. Damn it.

Everything came rushing back. We were locked up in this house, and Anthony Barnes was outside, and Lachlan was supposed to be playing dead.

I shook him.

He pushed me away sleepily.

I shook him harder.

And suddenly, he sat up straight, his eyes alert. His hair was a little mussed from sleeping, and he had the imprint of the mattress on his cheek. It made him look vaguely ridiculous, especially with the ultra serious expression on his face.

The door knob turned.

Lachlan sprang to his feet, throwing himself into a heap on the other side of the room.

Was that where he'd been when he woke up? I didn't even remember, because he'd woken up before me. I guessed it didn't matter. I could have moved his body, I supposed.

The door opened.

Anthony stepped inside. He had a tray with a sandwich and glass of water on it. "Good morning, Penny. How'd you sleep?" He eyed the heap that was Lachlan.

I adopted a wide-eyed expression of disgust and terror. "Take him away. Please, I can't take looking at him."

"You don't like having company? But I thought he was your partner." Anthony chuckled. "Don't worry. You have some food here, and it will all be fine."

"I'm not hungry," I said.

"I generally wouldn't insist," said Anthony. "But as it turns out, my stash of dragon meat is getting low. So, you eat up, and it's laced with a drug that will knock you out. I'll take off your shackles and move you into the pool, so that you can shift, and I can tranq you again and get some meat. Then when you shift back, you'll be all healed up, and I'll have him out of your way."

I cocked my head at him. "You were eating them."

Anthony furrowed his brow. "Pardon?"

"The girls. We thought you were killing them for pleasure, but it really was because you were a drake. You were keeping them here so that you had meat that regenerated."

"Well," said Anthony, "that was the plan. I have to admit, I always end up going overboard, though. I like carving your skin up. It's amazing how it heals both ways. Whatever form you're in, when you shift, it comes back."

That wasn't actually true. If someone cut off my leg or something, I'd shift into a legless dragon, but I didn't think now was the time to quibble with him.

"Sometimes, though, I cut too deep," he said. "I don't mean to, not really. It's fun to cut, though." He shrugged. "Don't worry. I'm sure I'll get it right with you. We'll be here together indefinitely. You shift. I eat. A perfect symbiotic relationship."

"In a symbiotic relationship, I'd get something out of the deal," I said, my nostrils flaring.

"Oh, you're a bit feisty," he said, setting down the tray in front of me. "Maybe that's better. I don't know. I always picked the younger dragon girls because they weren't mated, and no one watched them so closely. But you've left your mate, and that means you're mature and sure of yourself and—"

Lachlan leaped to his feet and jumped on Anthony's back, fangs out, jaws gaping.

Anthony let out a high-pitched shriek of surprise.

Lachlan sunk his teeth into Anthony's neck.

Anthony screamed, reaching back to claw at Lachlan.

I moved forward, going through Anthony's pockets, looking for the key.

Anthony's fist shot out, an uppercut to my chin.

My head snapped back, pain lancing through me. I stumbled backward.

Anthony bent over, reaching back for Lachlan, and rolled the vampire off him, so that Lachlan landed on his back between us, gasping.

Lachlan reached up with one hand, and I could see that he was concentrating to let magic flow through him.

Anthony's body shot up and slammed into the ceiling. He grunted.

Lachlan got to his feet.

Anthony laughed. "You idiots. I've been eating dragon flesh. I have it my freezer." Drakes were wicked strong after they consumed dragon flesh, but only for a few hours afterward. But during that time, they were more powerful than any other magical creature, even dragons themselves. Anthony's hands glowed orange, and a bolt of magic sizzled down through the air to collide with Lachlan.

Lachlan made a strange gurgling noise. His whole body went rigid and his eyes bulged.

And then he went still and fell to the floor, motionless.

I went to him, grabbing his arm. Lachlan didn't respond. I felt for a pulse and didn't find one. Did vampires have pulses?

"What did you do to him?" I said to Anthony.

He lowered himself to the ground gracefully. "Eat your sandwich, Penny. It will be so much easier if you just eat your sandwich."

"I'm not eating that sandwich. I'm not letting you drug me. And I'm not going to shift for you either."

"Oh, well, then I suppose I'll have to cut you," he said. "I'll cut you, and you'll shift to heal. I hope I don't go overboard with you. It's such a bother hunting down a new dragon. I'd be much happier to just keep you. So, I sure wish you'd cooperate."

I looked at Lachlan's motionless form. He had to be okay, didn't he? He was a vampire, and vampires healed. He wasn't burned. He still had his head. He was fine. He'd need time to recover, though.

And with these shackles on, I didn't stand a chance.

Anthony said he'd take them off of me to allow me to shift. Once I was in dragon form, I'd be better able to fight him. It was my only chance at this point.

Glaring at him, I picked up the stupid sandwich and shoved it in my mouth.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

I awoke lying next to the pool. I wasn't wearing my shackles. I wasn't wearing anything.

I flung an arm over my breasts, pressed my legs together.

"Oh, that's lovely," Anthony murmured, his voice thick. "More of that, please. It's quite nice when you try to hide, even though you can't." He was leering at me, aiming a dart gun at my head. Unlike the last time I'd been in here, the room was brightly lit. There were fluorescent lights overhead. I could see that the doors and walls and ceiling were all reinforced with steel. I would be strong in dragon form, but not strong enough to burst through that. And it wasn't as if it was flammable material either. Damn it.

I felt like vomiting. How dare he do this to me? How dare he strip everything away from me, including my dignity? I hated him in that moment. I hadn't had... emotions toward him before, not exactly, but now all I felt towards him was blinding hatred. I was going to kill him.

I tried to reach out with my magic, but it was gone.

It had been sucked completely out of me by those damned shackles. If I wanted magic, I'd have to recharge by shifting.

"Go on," he said. "Climb into the water and shift." He gestured to the pool with the tip of his dart gun.

The minute I shifted, he was going to shoot me with a tranquilizer dart. I wouldn't stand a chance.

I wasn't sure what to do. But I wanted the water to cover me. It wouldn't hide me, but I would feel covered, and that was something anyway.

So, I slipped into the water.

But I didn't shift. I treaded water and stared him down.

"You're not shifting," he said.

I decided to start swimming.

He was standing next to the ladder.

I swam to the opposite side of the pool.

"What are you doing?" he said, looking annoyed.

I didn't respond. I didn't need to talk to him. I needed to figure a way out of this. I treaded water down here. Maybe shifting wasn't the best idea after all, not if he was going to shoot me the minute I shifted. Maybe I should stay in human form. Try to get away. Get help.

He started to walk around the pool. "Now, now, Penny, if you don't shift, then I'm going to have to get out the knife and cut you. And I thought we agreed that you didn't want it that way."

"First you'll have to catch me," I said, and I pushed off from the side of the pool and rocketed through the water, heading straight for the ladder.

He started to run after me.

I reached the ladder just as he was rounding the corner of the pool. I hauled myself out of the water.

He was just behind me.

Naked and dripping, I ran out of the room.

"Penny!" he roared.

I really wished that asshole would stop using my first name. I darted up the hallway, and I ducked into the kitchen. I made a beeline for the door that I'd entered through.

The door knob wouldn't turn in my hands. Locked.

I turned.

Anthony rushed through the kitchen door. He swept a wicked-looking butcher knife off of the counter and dove for me.

I jumped out of the way, but there was nowhere to go. I was trapped here. I backed into the wall, trying to make myself small, trying to cover my body with my arms and legs, protect the sensitive parts.

He slashed at me.

The knife bit into the skin of my arms. I screamed.

He laughed.

I slid down the wall to the floor, making myself even smaller.

Above me, he was all shadows and the shimmering blade. I saw hints of his bared teeth and his glinting scales. I had never thought of drakes as real monsters, just people who'd been dealt an unfortunate hand, but he was a monster. He brought the knife down again.

Pain shot through me. I shrieked.

"Shifting starting to sound pretty good about now?"

I gritted my teeth, glaring up at him defiantly. "Are you kidding? My ex-husband did far worse than this to me on a regular basis. You think I can't take a few little shallow wounds?"

He was surprised by my insolence. Only for a second.

But a second was all it took for me to piston upwards, driving my fist into his groin.

His eyes bulged, and he let out a small whining noise. The knife clattered to the floor.

And I was up and running, out of the room.

There was a door in the living room, maybe I could—

"You little bitch!" he roared, and his voice was getting closer.

He was on the move.

I rushed down the hallway and ducked into the dark bathroom. I waited.

He lumbered into the hallway. "When I find you, Penny Caspian, you are going to be so sorry that you didn't cooperate."

Now that I wasn't moving, I could feel all the places he'd cut me. Some of them weren't as shallow as I'd claimed. I was really bleeding, and they all hurt.

I bit down on my lip, but the pain there paled compared to everything else.

Even if I managed to get out of that door in the living room, what was I going to do? Run around naked and bleeding, try to flag down a car on the road? The road was probably a quarter mile away. Close enough to walk, but if he caught me—

The door to the bathroom flew open.

I flattened myself against the wall in the darkness, holding my breath.

"Where the hell are you?" he muttered.

I shut my eyes.

"Can't have gone far," he said. "I'll find you. Don't worry about that." His voice was moving away.

I opened my eyes.

"This is all your fault anyway. You and that stupid cop, poking your noses where they don't belong. And then you showed up at the shelter, and I heard you on your phone in the parking lot, talking about how you knew it was me. Well, if you'd just minded your own business, you wouldn't be in this situation."

I made a face in the darkness. It was my fault? He was the one who'd made all the stupid mistakes. He was the one who'd shown up at the search party for Dahlia Brooks. He was the one who'd given Sophia's earrings to the girl who worked the desk at the shelter.

He was moving down the hallway. "Are you looking for your little cop friend? Don't worry. I got rid of him while you were unconscious."

Got rid of Lachlan? What the hell did that mean? I felt my body temperature start to rise, and it seemed like the places where I'd been cut stung even worse. Was Lachlan dead?

So help me, if that bastard had killed Lachlan—

I tore across the hallway, back into the pool room.

I dove into the water, and the minute that I was completely submerged, I allowed my dragon form to overtake me.

Seconds later, I surged out of the water, my wings dripping. Magic filled me. Strength filled me. Rage filled me.

I hovered in the air over the pool, flapping my wings. I didn't see how the hell I was going to fit through that doorway.

I blew a ball of fire through it instead.

"What the hell?" came Anthony's voice.

I chuckled a dragon-y laugh, which isn't much of a laugh at all, at least not to anyone who isn't a dragon. I realized that he had been capturing young, immature dragons. Dragons who hadn't mated. Dragons who couldn't breathe fire.

He didn't know who he was messing with.

He appeared in the doorway, and he'd gotten rid of the knife. Now, he had the tranquilizer dart gun and he was pointing it at me.

From my new perspective, he seemed so small. I breathed a wall of fire at his tiny form.

He dodged the fire, going sprawling on the slippering floor next to the pool. But as he fell, he managed to get off a dart.

I flew higher, slamming into the ceiling, barely evading the dart.

"You fire-breathing bitch, I'm going to enjoy tasting your meat!" he screamed.

In response, I blew another wall of fire at him.

At the same time, he shot off another dart.

I felt it pierce my flank. I faltered, falling a few inches before I recovered, flapping my wings and maintaining my space in the air.

He was yelling. He was screaming. He was on fire.

I laughed another dragon laugh, which was mostly just smoky air coming out of my lips.

He was on the ground, and he got off another shot.

I tried to evade this one, but I was already feeling... sluggish...

It lodged in my back leg. I whined, flapping my wings.

He was still burning.

I could smell the scent of his hair going up, his flesh melting.

And then he rolled into the pool, extinguishing the flame.

No. I was starting to feel slow and tired, and it was difficult maintaining my wings, continuing to fly.

He bobbed up in the water, and his face was red and raw from where he'd been burned. He screamed again. "What did you do to me?"

I was falling. Falling down into the water, and he was still alive and...

I hit with a splash.

Water from the pool sloshed out everywhere.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

I was losing consciousness, but I needed to concentrate. I used my magic to lift him out of the water, and he was suspended there, dripping and swearing.

"Go to sleep, bitch!" he said. "Go to fucking sleep."

I gathered as much air as I could into my lungs. Everything was fuzzy, the world was growing dark.

No, I needed to focus. I needed to do this.

He began to fall back towards the pool.

I was losing my magic. I was falling asleep.

Fight, I told myself.

And now he was pushing back, his own magic against mine, pushing my body down, down under the water, and I wasn't strong enough, and the cold wetness was closing over my head. I sputtered, letting my lungs whoosh out that air, that ineffectual, stupid...

Dark, dark, dark.

Warm dark.

I should just let myself...

No. I needed to stay awake. Maybe... maybe if I shifted back, it would help. What had Anthony said about things being healed both ways? Would going back to human form heal the tranq darts?

With my last shred of strength, I did it. I pulled in my wings and my scales and my teeth and my claws.

And I was just naked Penny, floating in a pool with a half-burned psycho.

But I was wide awake. And, having shifted, I had my magic.

I surfaced.

He was swimming for the ladder.

I swam after him.

He scrambled out of the pool, and crawled across the wet floor, reaching out one hand...

And the tranq gun flew through the air to him. He turned and trained it on me.

Fuck.

I sucked in air again.

He pulled the trigger.

I blew out the air, full of fire, full of rage, full of singing magic, just pouring everything I had into that fire ball.

The tranq dart hit me in the stomach.

I fell backwards. That was a tranq for a dragon, and I was in human form, and it hurt like hell, but...

He was engulfed in flame. He was screaming and yelling and burning and swearing.

I held him in the air with my magic. I wasn't letting him back in the pool this time.

But I was fading fast. The tranquilizer was working its way through my system, and I was going to fall asleep soon. Soon...

Was that Lachlan in the doorway?

I shut my eyes.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

My head hurt. I stirred. Where the hell was I?

I opened my eyes to find myself lying on a stretcher outside of Anthony Barnes's house, which was now surrounded by flashing lights connected to ambulances and fire trucks and police cars.

I was covered by a sheet, but I was still naked.

God damn it, where the hell were my clothes? I guessed that Anthony had done something with them. I started to sit up.

"Oh, hey, hey," said a voice. A smiling EMT leaned over me. "Why don't you take it easy, hmm?"

"I'm fine," I said, swinging one leg over the stretcher.

"Just wait." She put her hand on my chest and gently pushed me back. She turned and called over her shoulder. "Hey, Flint! She's awake."

Lachlan appeared from between all of the flashing lights and swarming people. He hurried over to me. "Penny?"

"You're okay," I said, reaching out, wanting to touch him and make sure he was real.

He grabbed my hand. "Yeah, I'm all right."

"Whatever he did to you, I wasn't sure..."

He sighed. "Yeah, I guess I was out for a while?"

"I don't know. He drugged me with that damned sandwich, and when I woke up, he said he'd gotten rid of you."

"I came to outside the house, tied up. I guess he figured he'd get to me after he finished with you, but you put a wrench in that plan."

"I almost didn't," I said. "He had it all figured out. He had those shackles and the pool and the tranq gun, and the doors were locked, and—"

"Hey," he said. "It's okay. We got the guy. They took him away already. He's headed to the hospital, but he'll be in lockup there, and he's not going anywhere."

"He's still alive?" I said. "But when I passed out, he was burning—"

"Yeah, I maybe pushed him into the pool and then tranqed him," said Lachlan.

"You saved him?"

"Trust me, it's good that I did," he smiled. "Less paperwork this way."

I raised my eyebrows.

"We want him tried and convicted, Penny," he said. "It's better for the families. If he died out here, even with the evidence we have against him, there would always be a question in the back of their minds about whether or not it was really him or if the killer's still out there. A guy like Barnes will admit to all of it, anyway. He'll want the notoriety."

Maybe he was right. I didn't know.

"Anyway," said Lachlan. "It's over, and I know this wasn't what you signed on for when you said you'd help out with the case. I never meant to get you in so much danger."

"It wasn't your fault. I'm the one who came out here, anyway. I did that on my own, and maybe it was stupid."

"But I'm glad you were here, because I don't know if I could have faced him on my own," he said. "Still, I would understand if you wanted out of this. If you didn't want to help me with anymore cases."

"What?" I said.

"Just think about it," he said.

"I don't need to think about it," I said. "I want to help. If you need me, I'm always here."

"You say that now, but maybe after you've had a little bit of time to think—"

"The only thing I want is some clothes," I said.

He looked down at his shoes, his ears turning red. "Uh, right. Well, I don't know what happened to them, but I did my best to make sure you were covered up."

Now my face was flushing, thinking of Lachlan covering my naked body.

"That's what I mean," he said in a quiet voice. "What that monster did to you—"

"I'm fine," I said, drawing myself up, but also being sure to clutch the sheet to my body.

"I think they want to take you to the hospital to get you checked out."

"I'm a dragon shifter, Lachlan. I need some water to shift and I'll be good as new. I don't need the hospital."

"Well, you can't use the pool," he said. "This place is a crime scene."

"I wouldn't get back in that thing if you paid me." I swung my leg over the stretcher again. "Just tell this EMT that I'm okay, please."

Lachlan got her attention. "Ms. Caspian's going to get up now."

"But—" said the EMT.

"I'm getting up," I said, and I did. I wrapped the sheet around me as best as I could.

Lachlan looked me up and down and then pointedly looked away. "I would take you out of here, but I have to stay on the scene for now."

I pointed to my car. "Can't I just have my keys? Didn't you find them somewhere?"

"Everything in that house is being tagged as evidence."

I groaned.

The EMT tapped me on the shoulder. "Hey, I've got an extra set of scrubs if you'd like to put those on."

I wanted to hug her.

Once I was dressed, even in bulky blue pajama-type clothes, I felt oodles better. I was able to talk to all the officers on the scene, go over everything that had happened.

Well, I might have left out the part about Lachlan and I snuggling on the mattress when it was cold.

But it all passed in a whir, and finally, we were released, and I got in the car with Lachlan, who drove us away. I'd come back later with my spare key for my car. Right now, that wasn't my first priority.

Lachlan drove until we found the ocean.

He waited, and I ran into the waves and shifted.

And then, in my dragon form, flying up into the bluest of blue skies, everything was okay.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

"Out of the way," I bellowed. I was coming up the steps to Jensen's apartment, floating about ten boxes in the air in front of me. They all belonged to Felicity. Today was officially move-in day for her, and I wouldn't be a good best friend if I didn't help.

Connor ducked out of the stairwell. "Geez, Penny. How many boxes you got there?"

Okay, technically, it was moving night by now. It had taken all day to pack up the rest of Felicity's stuff—even though she didn't have any furniture—and that was handy, because it meant Connor was awake to help.

"Just move," I said, using magic to push the boxes ahead of me as I climbed the stairs.

"Don't drop anything," he said.

"Shut up," I said. "I'm concentrating here."

I climbed the rest of the steps, turned onto Felicity's floor, went down the hallway, and stopped in front of her door, floating the boxes the whole way.

"Open up!" I called.

Felicity opened the door. "Why, Penny. How nice of you to stop by."

I glared at her. "Where do you want these?"

She got up on tiptoe to try to read the label on the box floating just above her head. "Um, can you lower this a little so that I can see?"

I pointed at the boxes and they all stacked up in one corner.

"Hey," she said. "You're not going to make me carry them all the way back the hall, are you?"

I shut the door behind me and collapsed against it. "Sheesh, Felicity. You know it actually takes effort to use magic?"

She laughed.

Someone banged on the door.

"Who is it?" I yelled.

"It's Connor," he said. "I've got boxes. Let me in."

I moved away from the door.

Felicity opened it.

Connor came in, carrying a stack of four big boxes.

"Whoa," said Felicity.

He set them down. "Gargoyle strength comes in handy sometimes."

"Thank you, Connor," said Felicity. She turned to me. "Thank you both. It's awesome having such magical friends."

"You just love us for our special abilities," said Connor.

"I'll go down for the rest of it," I mumbled.

"No, I think that's it," said Connor. "I saw Jensen down there, and I think he was gathering up the last of it—"

Jensen burst through the door at that moment, weighted down under at least three more boxes.

I reached out with my magic and lifted them. "Let me help you out with that."

"Thanks," gasped Jensen. He was sweating. He looked at Felicity. "Babe, your friends are really showing me up. I'm feeling a wee bit emasculated. I can't even carry up your boxes without looking like a wimp."

"Wimp is good," I said. "I want Felicity with a wimp."

Felicity rolled her eyes. She grabbed Jensen by the collar and pulled him against her. "You're not a wimp."

And then they were kissing.

I looked at the floor.

Connor coughed pointedly.

They kept kissing.

"Well," I said, "if that's everything, then I guess we help ourselves to beer in the refrigerator?"

"We were promised beer," said Connor.

"And pizza," I said, heading for the kitchen. "Are you two going to stop kissing long enough to order pizza?"

"Pizza's already ordered," Felicity called after us. "And totally snag yourselves some beer."

She and Jensen were following us into the kitchen, fingers linked.

"We really do appreciate you guys helping us move her in," said Jensen.

"No problem. What are friends for?" I opened the refrigerator and took out two cans of beer. I handed one to Connor and held the other aloft. "Either of you guys want?"

"Yes, please," said Felicity.

I handed it over. I raised my eyebrows at Jensen. "You?"

He nodded.

I got out a beer for him and one for me. I gave him his. "Listen, it goes without saying that if you hurt my best friend—"

"You'll burn me alive with your fire-breathing capabilities. Yeah, yeah, I know."

"I wouldn't burn you alive," I said. "I mean, unless you killed her or something."

"Just stop it," said Felicity. "He's not going to hurt me." She lay her head on his shoulder. "I'm happy, Penny. Just be happy for me."

I smiled. "I am." I held my beer up. "To Felicity and Jensen."

"Felicity and Jensen," said Connor, holding his up.

"I'll drink to that," said Jensen.

We all clinked our cans together, and then took a drink.

I eyed Felicity over my beer. "I am going to miss you, you know?"

She smiled. "I'm going to see you every day at the hotel, you know that, don't you?"

"It's not the same," I said, and I was ashamed to say that my eyes were getting a little misty.

She let go of Jensen long enough to hug me. "Best friends forever," she whispered in my ear.

"Forever," I whispered back, hugging her tight.

* * *

Later that night, I was sitting at the front desk in the hotel. I had told Connor to go out on his own, that I'd cover his shift for the night, because I knew I wasn't going to be able to sleep.

Even though Felicity hadn't been sleeping up there for a long time, the emptiness of the place seemed so... final.

I didn't want to be there alone tonight.

I didn't want to feel that emptiness.

The truth was, I suddenly felt more on my own than I ever had.

When I had been young, I'd had my parents. When they were gone, I'd had my grandparents. And then there had been Alastair. And when I left Alastair, I had Felicity.

But now...

I was really doing this.

And it was a big deal, because I wasn't in hiding anymore. I wasn't trying to lie low. Everyone knew who I was, knew I was a dragon, knew that I had helped take down Anthony Barnes, the dragon serial killer.

Things were changing now.

I had thought that when I closed this case, I'd be putting Alastair behind bars, closing that chapter of my life.

But it had turned out that Alastair hadn't killed those women after all. That didn't mean he wasn't a despicable human being, of course. But he was still out there, and a part of me would always want him, no matter what.

I hated that.

But I was strong. I could handle it.

I could do this. I could live on my own, by my own rules, in my city.

The door to the lobby opened, and Lachlan walked in. "Am I late?"

"Right on time." I smiled. "Did you get it?"

He held up the bottle of wine he was carrying.

"Not the wine," I said. "Anyway, I think I may have had too much beer at Felicity's earlier. I need to go easy on that."

He set the bottle down on the front desk. "Not the wine," he repeated, looking confused for moment. "Oh. You mean this?" He pulled a folded-up piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me.

I unfolded it eagerly. "My own network password."

He smiled. "So that you can log onto the computers at the police station whenever you need, since you are now an official consultant to the SCPD."

I smiled back. "Awesome. Thank you." I threw my arms around him.

He stiffened.

I released him. "Sorry. I guess we don't hug."

He put his hands in his pockets, grinning at the floor. "We could hug."

"Yeah?"

"You startled me is all. What's a little hug between friends?"

I chewed on my lip. "Is that what we are, Lachlan?"

He gestured at the piece of paper he'd given me. "Now, we're coworkers."

"Well, but not really," I said.

He smirked. "And it would be very unprofessional to allow anything to come between us and our work, don't you think?"

I narrowed my eyes.

He picked up the wine. "You have a corkscrew somewhere?"

I picked it up off the counter. "Right here. I was waiting for you to show up with wine."

He took it from me and began screwing it into the cork.

"Hey," I said. "What about that hug?"

He laughed. He set down the wine and the corkscrew. He opened his arms, waggling his eyebrows at me.

My breath caught in my throat. Sometimes, he was shockingly attractive, even when he was just joking around.

"Well?" He stepped closer to me.

Suddenly, my pulse started to pick up speed. I looked up at him, questions in my gaze.

"A hug, then," he murmured, but his voice had dipped into his lower register.

I licked my lips.

In one fluid motion, he slid an arm around my waist and tugged me tight against his body.

I let out a tiny breath.

And then he kissed me.

I clutched his shoulders, surrendering to the sweet pressure of his lips, the warmth of his arms around me, the goodness of our closeness.

Outside, the stars twinkled and the moon reflected on the dark, deep ocean.

The lights of my little hotel shone out into the darkness, one building among many that dotted the coast of Sea City. My city.

My home.

* * *

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