"Did you stir up any trouble yet?"

"Not trouble, but something. After I talked to you, I met with Carlos. Alice sent me to him, but frankly, he frightens me a lot more than she does."

"Oh, yeah. Even some of the vampires are afraid of him."

"From the story he told me, they ought to be. And Edward, too. Carlos is willing to risk helping us because he hates Edward that much."

"He does?"

"Yes, and Alice hates Edward, too—though it's more an expression of ambition with her. Hate seems to be the point on which everything turns, so that's what I'll push on. But we have to be careful. I cannot risk losing control of the situation to Alice or Carlos, which means you have to disappear for a while."

"I'm not going to get in your way or do something stupid," Cameron objected.

"That's not the problem, Cam. I don't want you to get hurt if anything goes wrong, and I don't want you used against me. Once the mud starts to swirl around, Edward is bound to start looking for a person holding a stick. We don't want him to think that's you."

"But what about you? Won't he hurt you, too?"

"It's possible, but that's what you're paying me for."

"Man," he said, shaking his head, "maybe I shouldn't have asked you to do this. Maybe I should drop it."

"We can, if that's what you want… but one of the things Carlos told me makes me think you have no real choice."

Cameron looked at me askance. "What did he tell you?"

"There's a lot more to this vampire thing than just sucking blood. I don't understand it all, but the impression I got was that without the right training and without the right… diet, you'll just sort of waste away and die." I paused a moment, wondering if this was why Cameron didn't glow like the others.

I shook myself back to conversation. "Dropping your efforts to reconcile with Edward, or moving to another city and hoping for a fresh start, would be postponing the inevitable. And if you stay here, Edward will eventually have to deal with you as a threat to the community."

"I'm not a threat! I'm not doing anything to anybody."

"Your existence outside of the control of the community is, inherently, a threat. Think about it. And think about where to hide until it's safe to come out."

"I didn't realize this vampire gig was going to require a security expert." He stood up. "I can find a place. Don't worry about me. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to stir mud."

Once Cameron was gone, I swallowed my trepidation and started down into the Square to seek vampires.

The night was thick with spirits trailing Grey wakes or striating the darkness with columns of cloud-light. Friday night was party night whether you were dead or alive. The historic district, with its many one-cover-price clubs and easygoing bars, was a prime location for night creatures on the prowl. I had three names on the list in this area, but in spite of my best charms, only one would talk to me. The first just squirmed around and refused to say anything before telling me to go jump in the Sound. The next one had a tale of pettiness and manipulation that wasn't much, for all his anger. The third threatened to kill me.

I gave up and was heading for my truck when I spotted a flash of red and turned my head.

Alice lounged under a streetlight and gave me her siren's smile before sliding back into the dark. As she moved, I recognized her shape in the shadow. Just like the night after I'd met Quinton—the same shape and shadow, sliding into the fog-filled alley that had led me into the Grey. She'd been teasing me, the previous night. She'd said she knew who I was. Why had she been watching me for so long?

I worried it in my brain, but was too exhausted from pushing back against the Grey all night to get an answer. I shook it off for now and headed home. I felt better as the distance increased between me and Pioneer Square.

It was almost one in the morning when I parked in a space under my building. I was tired, distracted by thoughts of Alice, and not paying attention. If I had been, I might have spotted the son of a bitch when he first stepped out of the shadows by the laundry room door.

Chapter 22

Clouds and mist played around the edges of vision and I was too tired to push it back. A solid shape reached for me under the silver mist-world and I coiled back, skipping behind the nearest car. "What in hell's little half acre do you want?" I demanded, trying to shake off the obscuring haze of Grey.

He was clean-cut, bulked buff, and dressed neatly—hardly the usual mugger. "Just you. You won't stay dead long enough."

He sprang forward, snake-quick for a guy with such bulky muscles. I turned to the side and backed up, giving him a kick in the seat as he brushed past. My high heels wobbled.

He turned, whipping out an arm to grab me. I hopped backward and slid onto the truck hood, putting distance between us.

He looked annoyed. Reached into his jacket pocket. "I'm not going to hurt you. A lot." He drew out a knife.

Bigger, faster, and stronger than me. And holding a knife like he knew it well. I didn't like those odds. I dropped onto the other side of the Rover. He started around the rear. He passed into the blind spot and I dug under the back of my jacket.

He cleared the end of the truck. I pointed the business end of the gun at his face. "Back off." I squeezed. The HK's cocking lever made a click that cracked the cold air like a hammer on thin ice.

He gaffed a chuckle that went right through me. "You're not going to shoot me." He lunged, tucking down.

I lowered aim, squeezed the trigger, twisted away.

The bullet gouged a chunk out of his shoulder. I stepped down hard and felt my heel break off as my ears shut down from the roar of the gun.

He staggered, but kept his feet and came after me, grimacing evil glee as he swung the blade.

I lurched sideways, stumbled, fell flat on my back. My skirt ripped, fouling the blade in a cloud of fabric. I tilted the pistol. Squeezed. Felt it buck, heard the underwater roar of the shot in my already ringing ears.

He swayed back, but didn't fall. Black blood dripped down the front of his jacket. He glared at me and bared a mouthful of shark's teeth.

I swallowed hard. "Oh…"

"Hey! What's going on down there? Was that a gunshot?" The voice sounded distant and tinny to me.

The uncanny man stared up toward Rick and his dog, emerging on the upper landing. He shot a look back at me and the gun, then whirled and bolted into the darkness outside.

I slumped against the Rover, letting out a gust of breath. I was thoroughly shaken, and too watery to stand up.

"Yes, Rick!" I yelled back, feeling woozy.

"Harper?" A moment later, they popped out of the foyer door, the dog in the lead and Rick dragged behind. "Harper, are you OK?"

"I'm fine, Rick," I said, shoving the dog back. My head was throbbing and sounds were muffled by a high-pitched whine in my ears.

"What happened?"

"Huh? Just a mugger. And I want to get upstairs and go to bed."

"We should call the cops."

"What? Why? He's gone." I doubted they had a mug book of the undead, and though I didn't know what he was, normal lie was not.

"You don't want me to call the cops? You're sure?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "I'll deal with it." I hoped.

Rick preceded me upstairs. The dog wagged like a puppy all the way, grinning a pit-bull grin of satisfaction with the commotion. He, at least, was having a great time.

I woke up in the morning sore and tired. My pumps and skirt were trashed and I had a long, deep scratch on my thigh, but my ears had stopped ringing.

While I waited for the coffee to dribble through the filter in the coffeemaker, I paged Quinton and left my office number. Then I poured the coffee into a travel mug, packed up and headed out.