"Skulking?" Carter sounded jovially indignant.

 "Please, Georgie," intoned Jerome, patience obviously at a breaking point, "leave well-enough alone. If you really want to do something useful, you will avoid dangerous situations like I advised before. I can't make you stay in protected company, but if you persist in being a nuisance otherwise, I can find a convenient place to stash you until this all blows over. This is not about anyone's 'side,' and you only run the risk of muddling up matters you don't understand."

 I unconsciously squeezed Hugh's hand for support. I did not want to think about what sort of "convenient place" Jerome had in mind.

 "Do we understand each other?" the demon asked softly.

 I nodded.

 "Good. You will be of most assistance to me by keeping yourself safe. I have too many things to worry about now without adding you to the list."

 I nodded again, not trusting myself to speak. His small display had had its intended effect on temporarily cowing me, though some niggling part of me knew I would be unable to "leave well-enough alone" once I walked out of here. It would be best to keep that knowledge to myself.

 "That will be all, Georgie," Jerome added. I heard the dismissal.

 "I'll walk you out," offered Carter.

 "No thanks." But the angel followed in my wake anyway.

 "So how'd it go with Seth Mortensen?"

 "Okay."

 "Just okay?"

 "Just okay."

 "I hear he's living here now. And spends a lot of time at Emerald City."

 I eyed him askance. "Where'd you hear that?"

 He only grinned. "So? Tell me about it."

 "There's nothing to tell," I snapped, uncertain why I was even discussing this. "I've talked to him a few times, toured him around. We don't really click. We can't communicate."

 "Why not?" Carter wanted to know.

 "He's a hardcore introvert. Doesn't talk much. Just watches. Besides, I don't want to encourage him."

 "So you're increasing his silence."

 I shrugged and pushed the button for an elevator.

 "I think I know a book that might help you. I'll dig it out and let you borrow it."

 "No thanks."

 "Don't knock it. It'll improve your communication skills with Seth. I saw it on a talk show."

 "Aren't you listening? I don't want to improve things."

 "Ah," said Carter sagely. "You don't go for introverts."

 "I—no, that's not it. I don't have a problem with introverts. “

 "Then why don't you like Seth?"

 "I do like him! Damn it, stop this."

 The angel quirked me a grin. "It's all right to feel that way. I mean, past evidence shows you tend to go for showy, flirty guys anyway."

 "What's that supposed to mean?" I immediately thought of my attraction to Roman.

 Carter's eyes flashed mischievously. We were at the hospital's exit now. "I don't know. You tell me, Letha."

 I had nearly walked out the door, but his comment jerked me back. I spun around so fast, my hair whipped around and hit me in the face. "Where did you hear that name?"

 "I have my sources."

 A great nebulous emotion swelled up in my chest, something I couldn't entirely identify. It fell somewhere on the continuum of hate and despair, not really subscribing to either one. Hotter and hotter it grew within me, making me want to scream at Carter and that smug, knowing look on his face. I wanted to beat my fists against him or shape-shift into something horrific. I didn't know where he'd learned that name, but it woke up some sort of sleeping monster within me, something that had been tightly coiled up.

 He continued watching me coolly, undoubtedly reading my thoughts.

 Slowly, I became aware of my surroundings. The chilly corridors. The anxious visitors. The efficient staff. I calmed my breathing and fixed the angel with a scathing look.

 "Don't you ever call me that again. Ever."

 He shrugged, still smiling. "My mistake."

 I turned smartly on my heels and left him there. I stormed out to my car and didn't even realize I was driving until I was halfway across the bridge, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes.

 CHAPTER 12 

 "Man, if Jerome had threatened to stash me somewhere, I wouldn't be out snooping around."

 "I'm not snooping. I'm just speculating."

 Peter shook his head and took the cap off a beer. I sat with him and Cody in their kitchen, the day after Hugh's attack. A ham and pineapple pizza had just arrived, and Cody and I dug into it while the other vampire merely watched.

 "Why can't you just accept this for what it is? Jerome's telling the truth. It's a vampire hunter."

 "No. No way. None of this adds up. Not the goofy way Jerome and Carter are acting. Not Hugh's attack. Not that fucked-up note I got."

 "I figured you get screwy love notes all the time. 'My heart bleeds for you, Georgina.' Written in actual blood. Stuff like that."

 "Yeah, nothing like self-mutilation to turn a girl on," I muttered. I gulped some Mountain Dew and returned to my pizza. Really, as far as caffeine and sugar went, Mountain Dew was nearly as good as one of my mochas. "Hey, why aren't you eating any of this?"

 Peter held up his beer bottle by way of explanation. "I'm dieting."

 I peered at it. Golden Village Low- Carb Ale.

 I froze, mid-bite. Low- carb?

 "Peter... you're a vampire. Aren't you by definition always on a low- carbdiet?"

 "It's no use," Cody chuckled, speaking up for the first time. "I've already had this argument with him. He won't listen."

 "You wouldn't understand." Peter eyed our pizza wistfully. "You can make your body look like anything you want."

 "Yeah, but..." I looked to Cody. "Can he really even put on weight? Aren't immortal bodies, I don't know, unchangeable? Or timeless? Or something?"

 "You'd know more about it than me," he said.

 "We eat other things." Peter rubbed his stomach selfconsciously. "Not just blood. It all adds up."

 This had to be weirdest thing I'd heard since Duane's death. "Stop it, Peter. You're being ridiculous. Next thing, you'll be down at Hugh's asking for liposuction."

 He brightened. "Do you think that would help?"

 "No! You look fine. You look the same as you always have."

 "I don't know. Cody's been getting all the attention whenever we go out. Maybe I should get more blond put into the spikes."

 I refrained from pointing out that Peter had been almost forty when he'd become a vampire, his hair heavily receding. Cody had been very young—barely twenty—and bore tawny, leonine good looks. Immortals who were formerly human stayed fixed at the age and appearance immortality had taken over. If the two vampires still frequented clubs and college bars, I didn't doubt Cody had more luck.

 "We're wasting time," I exclaimed, wanting to derail Peter from this whole image thing. "I want to figure out who attacked Hugh."

 "Christ, you have a one-track mind," he snapped. "Why can't you just wait to find out?"

 Good question. I didn't know why. Something inside me was tugging to get to the truth of this, to do what I could to protect my friends and myself. I just couldn't stand passively by.

 "It couldn't have been a mortal. Not from the way Hugh described the attack."

 "Yeah, but no immortal could have killed Duane. I already told you that."

 "No lesser immortal," I pointed out. "But a higher immortal..."

 Peter laughed. "Oh-ho, you are pushing the envelope now. You think there's some vindictive demon out there?"

 "They'd certainly be capable."

 "Yeah, but they have no motivation."

 "Not nece —"

 A funny sensation suddenly spread over me, tingly and gentle and silvery. I was put in mind of the fragrance of lilacs, the tinkling of small bells. I looked sharply at the others.