Cormel tossed his coat to a chair, reminding me of my dad coming home and settling in. He all but collapsed into one of the self-indulgent chairs by the fire and gestured for us to join him. His pale skin and dark, silvering hair gave him the look of a comfortable businessman home from work. Yeah, right.

I took off my scarf and unzipped my coat, but the winter's chill still hung in me and I kept it on. My eyes went everywhere as I followed Ivy to the hearth. To the right of the fireplace, one of the doors to what had once been a private dining room was open, and I could see a throw rug and part of a bed where a huge table once sat. One of the security vampires casually shut the door as he went by, and I guessed it was a guest room now. The floor was scratched in the old high-traffic areas and the light fixtures were still a table length apart, but it looked like a living room—a very large, low-ceilinged living room done up to look like a piece of up north with its round wooden timbers and dark paneling.

Cormel had chosen a chair, and Ivy had taken the couch before the fire. Thinking they were going to make judgments on where I sat, I carefully lowered myself onto the couch with Ivy between us, not too near her but not looking as if I was scrunched in the corner either.

The undead vampire smiled with half his mouth. Leaning forward, he rubbed his hands together and held them to the fire as if he was cold. Damn, he was good.

I felt silly in my coat, so I took it off to find it pleasantly warm. Rynn had beckoned one of his staff closer, and Ivy was giving the man my personal information so he could file for the AMA. I was just starting to get warm enough to pay attention when Jenks flew down the staircase, a content trail of gold dust spilling from him.

"You should be fine from AMA police for a while," he said as he unwound his winter wear to show the skintight black outfit he had on underneath. "He's got five vamps on security: the three who came with us plus two who were here. It wouldn't surprise me if the woman in the kitchen is security, too, by the way she's throwing the knives around."

"Thanks, Jenks," I said, knowing he was telling me this not because I was worried about the FIB or the I.S., but to tell our host we were not dumb about being here.

"Cormel has great security," he continued as more blue fabric joined the pile on the arm of the couch. "Professional. All new stuff, and don't mistake the smiles you're seeing for leniency in a stress situation."

"Gotcha," I said, then looked up when Cormel's aide nodded and left.

"I adore red tape," Cormel said, settling back with a pleased expression, "tied in a Gordian knot." I stared at him, and he added, "Any knot can be cut with a big enough sword. You'll have what you need in ten minutes."

Jenks rose an inch, then dropped when the guy with the savaged neck who had driven us here came in with an open bottle of white wine. I took my glass, vowing not to drink it, but when Cormel stood, gazing at the wine's hue, I knew he was going to make a toast.

"To immortality," he said, sounding almost forlorn. "For some, a burden; for others, a joy. Here's to long lives and long loves."

We went to drink, and Jenks muttered, "And longer lady-killers."

I choked, and Jenks rose up on a glittering column of laughter.

Ivy had heard him, and she leaned back with a sour look on her face, but Cormel had stood, and I jumped when one of his hands touched my shoulder and the other took my glass as I hacked and coughed. "Would you like a milder wine?" he said solicitously as he set it down. "Forgive me. You're still recovering. Jeff, bring out a sweeter white," he said, and I waved my protest.

"'S okay," I managed. "Went down the wrong pipe is all."

Ivy uncrossed her knees and took another sip. "Do you need to wait in the car, Jenks?"

The pixy grinned. I could see it through my watering eyes. I was probably as red as the throw pillow I wanted to smack him with. Tracking his motion to the warm mantel and out of my reach, I took another sip to clear my throat. The wine was superb, and my vow to avoid it was tempered by the knowledge that I'd probably never be able to afford a bottle like this. Ah, one glass sipped slowly wouldn't hurt….

Ivy unfolded herself and went to arrange the fire, leaving me and Rynn Cormel with a wide space between us. "Are you sure you won't stay the morning?" he said across the empty couch. "I've plenty of everything but company."

"Dinner, Rynn," Ivy said. Her shape was a sharp silhouette against the fire, and when her hand came down very close to Jenks, he took to the air muttering curses. "You said you know who killed Kisten. Is he someone who will be missed?" she said.

What she was asking was if she could claim a life in return, and I stifled a shiver at the depth of her pain.

A sigh slipped from Cormel, though he didn't need to breathe but to speak. "It's not that I know who killed him, but I do know who didn't." Ivy went to protest, and the man put up a hand for her to wait. "There was no one Piscary owed a favor to," Cormel said. "He hadn't had contact with any vampire out of the city, so it was a Cincy native, and likely still here."

Seeing his fatherly concern, something in me snapped. "There's you," I said bluntly, and Ivy stiffened. "Maybe you did it."

Jenks's wings clattered a nervous warning, but the undead vampire smiled with only the barest hint of an eye twitch giving away his annoyance. "I understand you're starting to remember certain things," he said flatly, and my bravado vanished. "Do I smell familiar to you? You wouldn't forget me if I'd pinned you to the wall." His eyes tightened. "I know it."

I started to breathe again when he turned to Ivy, the shell of his humanity back in place. "You've been to the boat, Ivy," he said in a soft voice. "Was I ever there?"

Ivy was tense, but she shook her head.

I would've pointed out that he could have had someone else do it, but that wasn't how vampires worked. If Kisten had been a gift to Cormel, Cormel would have taken him without a second thought and would admit it freely. I was dining with a freaking animal, and I bowed my head with a false contriteness and muttered, "Sorry. I had to ask."

"Of course you did. No insult taken."

I felt sick. We were all pretending. Well, at least Cormel and I were. Ivy might still be living the lie. I smiled at him, and Cormel smiled back, the picture of grace and understanding as he leaned to top off my wine, and I leaned forward to accept it.

"Besides myself," he said as he retreated and Ivy relaxed, "there have been no new major political powers entering the city, and none looking for upward mobility other than what one would expect when a master vampire dies his final death. No one has more power than he or she should, which wouldn't be the case if Piscary showed favor to someone." He took a sip, considering the flavor or his next words. "Many owed Piscary, but he owed no one."

Her back to the fire, Ivy was silent. We'd learned nothing, and I was starting to wonder if Kisten's death was another one of Ivy's freaking life lessons. Seeing her fidgeting in motions so subtle only Jenks or I would recognize, I hoped not. If it was, I might just dig the bastard Piscary back up and stake him again for the hell of it. Make a necklace out of his teeth and bathtub duckies out of his dried-up balls…

"I've met him," Ivy said, looking for a shred of hope to follow. "I just can't place him."

"Do you have a name?" Cormel asked.

I could hear faint activity in the kitchen, and Jenks flew to investigate.

"No. The scent is too old, and it's not quite the same. It's like he was alive when I knew him, and now he's dead, or maybe a large shift of status changed his diet and therefore his scent." Her head came up, showing that her eyes were red. "Maybe he tried to disguise his smell so I couldn't recognize it."