On the way to Bellevue, I considered what I was heading into. I hadn't really expected Cameron to try the truth on her quite so soon, and I hadn't any idea how Colleen Shadley would react once I arrived. I supposed that she wanted me out there so she could fire me or demand answers she liked better than her son's. I didn't think she'd like mine any better, but since I'd already completed the task, she couldn't fire me.

She could refuse the bill, though, and that would be unpleasant. I hadn't had to remind a client of nonpayment in a long time and I didn't look forward to it. Colleen was the lawyers-and-litigation type, without a doubt, and Nan Grover wouldn't like having to choose between a friend and me. No matter what happened, it wasn't going to be fun.

The Shadley house sprawled in one of the horse-trail suburbs where the yards run to an acre or two around houses of equal size. I had to wander a bit to get into the nest of twisted streets and up the curving, grumpy rises to the rambling stone house that hung back from the street like a shy child behind a screen of cypress trees. Cameron's green Camaro stood in the driveway.

The air near the house flickered a bit to my gaze and familiar, cold nausea slid a bodkin along my ribs. I looked sideways at the curtain between here and there, probing the dark spots until I thought I had looked into them all. I caught the shape…

"Hi," he said, and I twitched, not quite prepared. Cam was waiting in the shadows of the trellised entry. "I didn't want to go in without you."

"Afraid your mother will eat you?" I asked.

"Sort of. I've never heard her this mad. I mean, she yells at Sarah once in a while, but not like this. She's hot."

"I noticed." I took a few deep, slow breaths before continuing. "All right. Let's beard the lioness." I rang the bell. The porch light came on and the door wrenched open.

Colleen glared at both of us and directed us in. Cam, the coward, let me go first. She led us into a stiff, formal room. I shot a glance at Cameron and he made a grimace. This must have been the child-free zone of his youth, approached only on formal occasions or under parental indictment. We were being called onto the antique Chinese carpet.

Cameron's mother sat down on the pale cream sofa and pointed us at narrow-backed chairs without armrests. I sat on the love seat across from her instead. After a second's pause, Cameron sat next to me.

Colleen reined in a scowl, but didn't comment. "I would like an explanation out of both of you. Now."

Cameron started to answer, "Mo—"

I cut him off with a hand gesture, presenting his mother a bland face. "Of what, Colleen?"

"Of this phone call I had from Cameron this evening. Of what is really going on. Now, please."

"I think we need some clarification first," I suggested, sitting back and stretching out my legs to their full, space-hogging length. I crossed my booted feet at the ankle, heels pointing at her in insouciant despite. "You hired me to find your son and I have, unless you claim that this young man is not your son. Is he?"

"Yes, of course he is," she replied. "But—"

"Then you agree that I've supplied the service you contracted for."

She hedged. "Up to a point."

"There was no other point agreed on in the contract or our discussion, Colleen. As his mother, you were concerned for your son. As the executrix of his trust fund, you were concerned for your trustee. Here he is—son and trustee, whole and sound. I'm willing to discuss the case with you insofar as it doesn't intrude on Cameron's privacy—even further with his permission. But, professionally and ethically, that's all I will do."

She glowered, but she also knew I had her, as far as contracts were concerned. "Very well, then. You can send me your bill and go now."

Cameron was vibrating with tension, his flickering making me dizzy. "I want her to stay. Mom, I'm sorry I tried to run away from my problem and that I didn't get in touch with you a lot earlier, but I knew you would have a hard time with this. I had a hard time with it, and I'm still having a hard time. I wish you'd cut me some slack."

"Slack? You sound just like your sister. You think you'll be handled with kid gloves if you just whine enough."

"I'm not whining. I'm trying to explain," he said, shooting his arms out to the side and nearly smacking me. I refused to flinch.

She snapped back at him. "Evading and lying is more to the point. You can't imagine how disappointed I am in you."

"Actually, Mom, I've got a pretty good idea. I got in over my head. I did some stupid things. I'm disappointed in me, too. But that doesn't change the situation. I'm still… what I am," he finished, dropping his hands between his knees.

"A vampire? Cameron, really!"

"Smile, Cameron," I suggested.

He rolled his eyes at me and made an ugly grimace. His lips peeled back from his teeth and his too-sharp canines glinted in the light. Colleen recoiled and stared.

"Andrew Cameron! Stop that. Who did you persuade to mutilate your teeth like that?"

"They're not fake, Mom," he said. "They came with the outfit, so to speak. So did this." He shimmered a little and became Grey. I spotted him right off this time, and grinned.

Ignoring me, Colleen jerked forward. "Cameron! Cameron! Stop that! Stop it!" she yelled. She turned her glare on me again.

I shook my head, stone-faced again. "No smoke and mirrors here."

She reached out and flailed at what seemed to her thin air. She slapped her son on the shoulder.

"Ow!" he yelped and shimmered back into the normal.

She grabbed on to him with both hands, which pulled her off the sofa. She crouched on the floor in front of him and held on tight to his upper arms.

"What did you do? Where did you go?" she demanded.

"I was right here, Mom. You just couldn't see me. I don't know how it works. I just concentrate on being gone and I disappear." He tried to shrug, but she held him too hard. "It just comes with the job, I guess."

"Can you do it while she's touching you?" I asked, half curious, half hoping to prove something to Cameron's mother.

"I can try." He shimmered away again as Colleen held on for dearest life.

She let out a wail and plopped onto her backside. "Cameron!"

He came back. "I'm still here, Mom."

"Oh, my God," she gasped and put her hands up to her face. Oblivious of her makeup, she rubbed her cheeks and temples and smeared her hands up into her hair. "My God, my God." She crumpled into a ball and began sobbing.

"Mom! Mom, it's OK. It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you or anything." He crouched down on the rug beside his mother and put his arms around her. "Mom? Are you OK?"

She wailed and pressed the top of her head against her son's chest. He rocked her and babbled soothing words. I stood up and looked around.

"Kitchen?" I asked.

"Out the other door and through the dining room," Cameron whispered, jerking his head toward a door we had not used before.

I nodded and went out.

Somehow, Colleen Shadley didn't strike me as the sort to resort to hard liquor for shock. I made tea. While it was brewing, though, I hunted up a bottle of cognac and put a good dose of the stuff into one of the cups. I juggled three full cups back out to the sitting room.

Cameron had gotten his mother back on the sofa, though she was still clinging to him a bit and sniffling.

I handed her the cup with the potent brew. "This'll help. Better drink it."

Cameron found her a box of tissues as she snuck up on her first sip. She shuddered and made a face, but took a scalding gulp and then another. Then she took a tissue and dabbed at her smeared eyes and blew her nose in a delicate, ladylike fashion.

"I–I—that wasn't good of me," she said.

Cameron patted her arm. "Mom. It's OK. You were… shocked. It's OK."