The jitters started, and Jenks's wings shifted fitfully as we pulled in to Piscary's parking lot. Yeah, the plan looked good on paper, but Piscary might be more ticked than I thought about my putting him in jail. That I'd just been doing my job probably wouldn't go very far with him.

Nervous, I scanned the area. There were a few cars clustered about the kitchen entrance that were clearly not patrons'. I didn't see Ivy's cycle, but there was a huge mound of stuff piled at the curb. Sheets of paneling that once covered the upstairs windows and the tall, trendy tables and stools that Kisten had put in were now carelessly piled to make a five-foot wall between the lot and the street, waiting for pickup. Apparently Piscary was doing a little remodeling.

My eyes widened, and I took my foot off the gas when I realized Kisten's light show was among it, the metal scaffolding bent and twisted as if it had been pulled from the ceiling without regard. The colored lights were smashed, and his pool table was leaning atop it.

"Rache," Jenks said, chilling me, "that pile of trash just moved."

Fear slid through me, and my heart jumped. It was Kisten sitting on the curb between the mounds of debris. Sun glinting on his blond hair, he threw something into the pile with a metallic ting. He looked rumpled in his red silk shirt and black linen slacks. Discarded.

"Oh, my God," I whispered. His head came up as I swung the car around to point my nose to the exit, parking sideways against the faded lines. There was anger in his absolutely black eyes—utter hatred blending with betrayal and frustration.

"Ah, Rachel, maybe you should stay in the car."

Heart pounding, I fumbled for the door, and Jenks zipped out before me, aggressive and wary. Kisten stood, and, leaving the car running, I glanced at the dark restaurant and the upper windows overlooking the parking lot. Nothing moved but a scrap of paper taped to the door. Worried, I paced to him, my kick-butt boots tapping. "Kisten?"

"What are you doing here?" he barked, and I jerked to a stop, confused.

I stood there for a moment with the nearby cars whooshing past, trying to realign my thinking. "Piscary evicted us," I said, Jenks's wings clattering as he hovered. "What happened?" I said, gesturing to his club, now on the curb.

"What do you think happened!" he shouted, looking at the silent restaurant. "The son of a bitch kicked me out! He kicked me out and gave my last blood to someone."

God help us. His last blood? As in "Here he is, have fun draining him to death?"

Pulse quickening, I dropped back when Kisten swooped down to the fragments of his dance club. With vampiric strength he flung a chair at the front door, the metal tumbling and clanking to stop short of the entryway. The wind from the nearby river tugged at my braid, and I felt cold despite the two shirts I had on. "Kisten," I said, frightened, "it's going to be okay."

But my confidence trickled away when he turned to me, his shoulders hunched and dark fear and hatred in his eyes. "No," he rasped. "It isn't. He gave me to someone as a thank-you. To kill. For their enjoyment. And no one will stop him because he's a. fucking god!"

The draft from Jenks's wings tickled my neck, and an iron-cold band of fear slithered through my heart. There was death in Kisten's eyes.

There in the sunshine, death waited. Backing up another step, I felt my mouth go dry.

Kisten dipped a hand into a leather pocket of the pool table to come up with the five hall. "When Ivy says no, she gets praised for her strength of will," he said bitterly, hefting it experimentally for weight. "When I say no, I get fucking kicked out!" With a grunt he threw the ball. It sped over the parking lot, almost unseen. "Fuck you, you bastard!" he shouted, and a window broke in the upper story.

I jumped when Jenks landed on my shoulder. "Ah… Rachel?" he said, and gold dust spilled over me. "Leave. Please just get in the car and leave."

Swallowing, I took a hesitant step forward while Kisten found another pool ball. "Kisten?" I whispered, frightened at his show of temper. Never had I seen him this bad. "Come on," I said, reaching out to take his arm. "We have to go."

Jenks left me, and Kisten froze when I tugged on him. Face empty, he turned, his black eyes freezing me as they glinted from behind his blond-dyed bangs. Feeling like I'd made a mistake, I let go. "We have to leave," I said, worried someone would come out.

"Go where?" he said around a harsh laugh that didn't sound like him at all. "I'm dead, Rachel. Soon as the sun goes down, someone's going to kill me. As slowly as their anticipation can stand. I gave everything to that bastard, and now he won't—" His words broke off, and fear and pain crossed his face. "I did everything for him," he said, betrayal staining his anger. "Made a shitload of profit off his bar when it lost its MPL, and now he fucking won't touch me!"

His rage and desperation finding a release in a movement of controlled anguish, Kisten threw another pool ball. I fell back, almost tripping on the wreckage of his light show.

"I made more on his damned business after he lost his MPL than he did all of last year!" he shouted, and the ball thunked low and to the left of a wide plate-glass window.

"He never even looked at the books!" Kisten threw a third, and my pulse raced when it went through the wall. "He doesn't fucking care!" he raged, and the eight ball hit the window.

I gasped when it shattered completely and a shadow came forward to investigate.

Kisten turned away, palm on the pool table sitting at a forty-five-degree cant atop a stacked pile of little round tables. Beyond the rubble, cars passed, oblivious. "He never looked at the books," he said softly, as if trying to figure it out. "I thought that would mean something."

The creak of the restaurant's door opening sent alarm spiking through me. Fear for what was coming beat the fear of Kisten's having lost it, and I pulled on his arm, the scent of old blood mixing with his usual scent of leather. "Get in the car. Kisten, get in my car!"

"He never looked at the books," Kisten said again, in shock. "Just put down an ultimatum, then gave my last blood to the vampire who set up the deal between him and that demon to get him out. Someone who doesn't care about me. I… I wanted him to have it."

This was just too sick. "Kisten, we have to go!" I exclaimed, my gaze darting to the five big men walking toward us, their pace slow and their wide shoulders swinging. One hesitated at the chair Kisten had thrown, twisting a metal leg free before falling back into step. Ah, shit.

Kisten's head came up at the sound of metal tearing. My face went cold. He was dead inside. Though he breathed and his heart beat, Kisten was dead, killed by an anger and betrayal that I'd never comprehend. He'd known Piscary his entire life. Bound his life to him. Was given power and authority over others through him. Found and relished the power of living above the law because of him. And Piscary had ripped all the promises away and thrown him to the curb without pity or thought. Discarded. Given to someone as a gift to take pleasure in killing him. This is who I wanted to buy protection from?

"Please," I whispered, both wanting and fearing Kist's turning his black eyes to me. My hand was on his shoulder, and the muscles of his arm tightened as he made a fist. I saw his determination before he voiced it.

"I need to hurt someone, Rachel," he said, brushing my hand from him. "Don't stop this until I can't move." He pulled a pool cue from the wreckage and hefted it.

"Kisten!" I pleaded, but he shoved me backward. I stumbled to catch my balance, frightened, and Kisten went to meet them, never looking back. Panicking, I shifted my weight to follow, but Jenks dropped down to block my way.