Mr. D handed the Nokia over and recited some digits. As Lash called the first one and gave the slayer an address in a high-rent part of town, he could practically hear the bastard’s suspicion-especially as the lesser asked who the fuck was calling him on Mr. D’s phone.

They didn’t know who he was. His men didn’t know who he was.

Lash handed the fucking phone back to Mr. D and barked for the Fore-lesser to give confirmation. Man, he shouldn’t have been surprised at the doubting thing, but that shit was so going to change. He was going to give his troops a few places to hit tonight to gain himself some cred, then the Lessening Society was going to have a come-to-Jesus meeting in the morning.

They would follow him or meet their maker. Period.

After he and Mr. D did the cell phone handoff three more times, Lash said, “Now take me to Twenty-one Fifteen Boone Lane.”

“You want me to call more men in to hit it with us?”

“For our next house, yeah. But this first one is personal. ”

His dear old cousin Qhuinn was about to eat his own ass for lunch.

After five months of being the Primale, Phury was used to not feeling comfortable. The whole goddamn thing had been one ill-fitting suit after another, a whole wardrobe of I-don’t-want-to-do-this.

And yet interviewing Layla for the position of First Mate felt especially wrong.

Viciously wrong.

As he waited for her in the library, he prayed to God she didn’t drop her robe like the others had.

“Your grace?”

He looked over his shoulder. The Chosen was standing in the open double doors of the room, her white robe falling to the floor in folds, her slender body held with regal grace.

She bowed deeply. “It is my wish for you to fare well this evening.”

“Thank you. I hope the same for you.”

As she straightened, her eyes met his. They were green. Like Cormia’s.

Shit. He needed a blunt. “Would you mind if I light up?” “Of course not. Here, let me bring you the flame.” Before he could tell her not to bother, she picked up a crystal lighter and came over to him.

Putting a hand-rolled between his lips, he stopped her as she flipped the lid free. Taking the heavyweight from her, he said, “Not to worry. I can do it.”

“Of course, your grace.”

The flint rasped and the flame popped up yellow and she stepped back, her eyes moving around the room. “This reminds me of home,” she murmured.

“How so?”

“All of the books.” She went across the way and touched some of the leather spines. “I love books. If I hadn’t been trained as an ehros, I would have wanted to be a sequestered scribe.”

She seemed so laid-back, he thought, and for some reason that made him anxious. Which was nuts. With the others, he’d felt like a lobster in the lobby of a seafood restaurant. With her, they were just two people talking.

“May I ask you something?” he said as he exhaled.

“Of course.”

“Are you here freely?”

“Yes.”

Her answer was so level, it seemed rote. “You sure about that?”

“I have long wanted to serve the Primale. I have been steadfast always in this desire.”

She seemed totally sincere… but something was off. And then he figured out what it was. “You don’t think I’m going to choose you, do you.”

“No.”

“And why is that?”

Now the emotion came out in her, her head dropping, her hands coming up, her fingers entwining. “I was brought here to see Master John Matthew through his transition. I did so, but he… denied me.”

“How?”

“After he’d been through the change, I washed him, but he denied me. I have been trained to serve sexually and was prepared to do so, and he denied me.”

Whoa. Okay. TMI. “And you think that means I won’t choose you?”

“The Directrix insisted that I come to you, but it was a measure of respect for you, to give you leave over all Chosen. Neither she nor I expect you to elevate me to First Mate.”

“Did John Matthew say why he didn’t…?” Because most males were horny as hell right after their changes.

“I left when I was asked to. That is all.” Her eyes flipped up to Phury’s. “Verily, the Master John Matthew is a male of worth. It is not in his nature to detail the faults of another.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t because of-”

“Please. May we depart from this subject, your grace?”

Phury exhaled a stream of coffee-scented smoke. “Fritz said you were up in Cormia’s room. What were you doing there?”

There was a long pause. “That would be between sisters. Of course, I would tell you… should you order me to do so.”

He couldn’t help but approve of the quiet reserve in her voice.

“No, that’s okay.” He was tempted to ask if Cormia was all right, but he knew the answer to that one. She wasn’t. Any more than he was.

“Would you like me to go?” Layla asked. “I know the Directrix has two of my sisters prepared for you. They are eager to come over and greet you.”

Just like the other two who’d been to see him the night before. Excited. Ready to please. Honored to meet him.

Phury brought the blunt to his lips again and inhaled long and slow. “You don’t seem too thrilled with this.”

“With my sisters coming to see you? Of course I-”

“No, with meeting me.”

“On the contrary, I am eager to be with a male. I have been trained for mating and I want to serve as more than a blood source. Rhage and Vishous do not require all my services, and it is a burden to be unused…” Her eyes went to the books. “Indeed, I feel as though I am shelved. That I have been given the words to the story of my life, but that I remain largely unread, as it were.”

God, he so knew what that was like. He felt as though he had been waiting forever for things to settle down, for the drama to end, for him to be able to take a deep breath and start living. How ironic. It sounded as if Layla was feeling the way she was because nothing was happening in her life. He felt unread because too much had been going on for too long.

Either way, the end result was the same.

Neither of them was doing more than just getting through the day.

Well, cry me a river, mate, the wizard drawled.

Phury went over to an ashtray and stabbed out the blunt. “Tell the Directrix she doesn’t need to send anyone else to me.”

Layla’s eyes shot to his. “I beg your pardon?”

“I choose you.”

Qhuinn pulled the black Mercedes up in front of Blay’s house and put the thing in park. They’d waited for hours at ZeroSum, with John texting Blay every now and again. When they kept hearing nothing back, John had pulled up stakes and here they were.

“You want me to open your door,” Qhuinn said dryly as he cut the engine.

John looked over. If I say yes, would you do it?

“No.”

Then by all means, open my door.

“Damn you.” Qhuinn got out of the driver’s seat. “Ruining my fun.”

John shut his door and shook his head. I’m just glad you’re so manipulate-able.

“That’s not a word.”

Since when have you been in bed with Daniel Webster? Hello? “Gigunda”?

Qhuinn glanced to the house. He could just hear Blay’s voice filling in, That would be Merriam-Webster. “Whatever. ”

The two of them went around to the back of the house, going up to the door that went into the kitchen. The place was a big brick colonial, real formal-looking in front, but it had a cozy rear side, with kitchen windows than ran from floor to ceiling, and a stoop with a friendly wrought-iron lantern that hung down.

For the first time in his life, Qhuinn knocked and waited for an answer.

Guess it was a humdinger of a fight, huh, John signed. Between you and Blay.

“Oh, I don’t know. Sid Vicious behaved worse than I did, for example.”

Blay’s mom answered the door, looking exactly as she always did, all Marion Cunningham from Happy Days, from the red hair to the skirt. The female was everything that was round and lovely and warm about the fairer sex, and Qhuinn realized as he stared at her now that she, not his chilly swizzle stick of a mother, was the standard that he held females up to.