I got a glimpse of the nearest street sign and stood on the brakes, craning my neck to be sure. I parked the Impala in the middle of the road, tossed my jacket over Ray’s stump and dragged him over the seat behind me. Come to think of it, I did know one Uptown kind of guy.

I just hoped like hell he was home.

“Home” to senior masters traveling outside of their territories could mean a lot of things. For those on Senate business, it usually meant staying at one of the Senate’s many properties worldwide. But if they were traveling for pleasure—or if they were up to no good that they didn’t want their fellow senators to know about—they usually sponged off a subordinate. But what if they didn’t have a flunky in the area? Then they went to the vamp equivalent of a hotel. They stayed at the Club.

Vampire owned and Senate approved, with branches in most major cities, the Club provided visiting masters with luxury, convenience and, most important, security. If someone wasn’t on the approved list, they didn’t get in. And I was most definitely not on that list.

Fortunately, I was with someone who was.

“Raymond Lu to see Prince Radu Basarab,” I told the little bald daub of a desk clerk.

He didn’t answer, being too busy gaping at Ray’s gory stump. My jacket had fallen off somewhere in the mad dash here, and even I had to admit that the result was kind of gruesome. The blood flow had finally stopped, though, so that was something.

“I–I—”

“Radu Basarab,” I repeated slowly. “He’s here, right?” The vamp swallowed, and his hand disappeared under the counter, his shoulder jerking as he repeatedly stabbed the panic button. I glanced over my shoulder and wished whoever was in charge would hurry the hell up already. And then it was too late.

A truck rumbled down the street, its bed full of men. They were seated on benches along each side, like a bunch of soldiers on their way to a fight, which looked a little out of place in this area. It was pretty accurate, though, I realized a second later, as a streetlamp caught a familiar face.

It was one of Cheung’s boys, the one I’d fought in the storeroom. He must have been a senior-level master, because that shot should have killed him. Instead, livid and puckered scars crisscrossed his face and neck, and disappeared into the collar of the new shirt he’d acquired. He’d probably taken it off a subordinate, because it was too small, showing off a large indentation where his stomach ought to be. He’d heal eventually, of course, but in the meantime, he looked a little peevish.

Scarface spied me through the leaded glass in the front door and his mouth dropped open—for a split second, until he leveled his shotgun at me. I jerked to the side, and it blew a hole through the door and across the room and would have taken out Ray’s head, if he still had one. Instead, it exploded against the expensive wood paneling behind the desk.

“Never mind. I’ll find him myself,” I said, and dragged Ray over the counter.

We dashed down a hall and ran straight into a group of well-armed security. “Oh, my God, look what they did!” I screamed, and pointed at Ray, who obligingly slumped against the wall. The security guard shied back; then his jaw set, and he and the rest of the team streamed past, headed for the lobby.

Ray and I scurried ahead as the sound of shots, curses and breaking glass echoed down the hall. A waiter coming out of the kitchen saw Ray and dropped a tray of glasses. “Have you seen Prince Basarab?” I asked him. He just stood there, the tray clutched to his chest, and didn’t say anything. So I poked him. He jumped and stared at me instead. “Radu!” I repeated.

He pointed up the stairs, and Ray and I took them two at a time. Vamps were peering out of all the doors on this floor, and none of them was ’Du, so I kept going. But at the top of the next flight of stairs, a handsome young man in a light blue dressing gown was just pulling a door shut behind him. I thought I recognized him, and sure enough, he saw me and smiled. “Dorina, isn’t it?”

“That would be me.” The guy was one of Radu’s humans, brought along as a snack, among other things. I didn’t remember his name, but it didn’t matter. I doubted very much if most of the vamps did, either.

He pushed sweaty blond hair off his neck. “I thought so. Things always get so much more… lively… whenever you’re around.” He looked past my shoulder. “Radu was wondering what all the commotion was about, but I suppose you’ll tell him.”

“You bet.”

He glanced at Ray and made a little moue of distaste. “So much for a quiet weekend,” he sighed, and edged on by.

I slipped into the room he’d just left, closed the door and turned to see Louis-Cesare’s maker sitting up in bed. Radu Basarab shared his brother’s darkly handsome good looks, most of which were on display at the moment because he appeared to be wearing only a sheet. He snatched it up breast high, like a modest woman, and stared at me out of annoyed turquoise eyes.

“Dory. You can’t be here, you know. Really you can’t.”

“Why not? This is a vampire club.” I nudged Ray. “He’s a vampire.”

“He doesn’t have a head.”

“Okay, most of a vampire. And you said we’d get together while you were in town.”

“I said I would come see you,” he said crossly. “That’s a very different thing! And what are you doing?”

I looked up from settling Ray into a camel-colored wingback chair. “What am I supposed to do with him? Prop him in a corner?”

Radu threw up his hands, but he stopped bitching long enough to wrap the sheet around himself and pad across to the bathroom. He emerged a moment later in a quilted orange silk robe and threw a towel at me. “For his neck. You have no idea what they charge here for incidentals. It’s a disgrace.”

“Why aren’t you staying with Mircea, then?”

Radu made a face. “Because of those damn races—”

“Races?”

“The World Championships, Dory!”

“Of what?” I asked, spreading the towel along Ray’s chair back. He didn’t really need it, but arguing with Radu was a pointless occupation. His conversational style defied all logic except his own. And we were going to get interrupted in about thirty seconds anyway.

“Ley-line racing. You know, the mages’ favorite sport.”

“I don’t keep up with it,” I said, listening to the bumps, crashes and shouts coming from downstairs.

“Well, neither do I! That’s the point. I planned this visit weeks ago, assuming that of course I would stay with Mircea. Only to be told that he was already hosting guests and was full up.”

“What about vamp central?”

“If you mean the Senate’s East Coast headquarters, I tried there, too. But it’s the same story. I told them I didn’t need much space, although considering all I do for them, I would have thought they could have found something suitable. But even when I offered to stay in a single room—”

“The horror.” I wandered over to a rosewood chiffonier, which looked like it might have been converted into something interesting.

“—they insisted that nothing was available! Reducing me to this. I tell you, the things I do for family—”

“Family?”

The door burst open, and three security officers rushed in. Radu ignored them in favor of narrowing his eyes at the dusty bottle in my hand. “Tell me that’s not the Louis XIII.”

I looked down at the label on the very nice cognac I’d just poured myself. “Uh.”

“Do you have any idea what they’re going to charge me for that?”

“You should get them to comp you, along with the room. If I was the bad guy, I could have had you in a dozen pieces by now.”

Radu’s narrowed gaze turned on the lead guard, who failed to notice because he was staring at Ray, who had started smoking again. I guess that was fair because it wasn’t like he could drink anything. But it didn’t get any less appalling.

“Must you do that?” Radu demanded. Predictably, Ray flipped him off. Radu looked at me. “Dorina!”