"You're being paid to have sex with strangers."

I raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"No 'and.' The resort is owned by my… employer."

Employer? Starr was more than just that. "So you're not just a scamming psychic? You're a pimp, as well?"

She stiffened ever so slightly. "I am not pimping you. I am simply offering you an opportunity to make a lot of money."

"Yeah. By having sex. It's called pimping, whether you like it or not."

I studied her for a moment, wondering how fine a line I should walk between reluctance and acceptance. But given Poppy's supposed history, she wasn't likely to be trusting anyone too quickly.

"This is one of those sex-slave scams they've been talking about in the papers lately, isn't it? You know, lure innocents with the enticement of money, then ship them off to parts unknown, to be held captive and abused. Well, I ain't interested, lady." I banged on the glass partition between us and the driver, wincing as the sound echoed through my head. "Hey, you, stop this crate and let me out."

"I promise, this is no scam."

"Yeah, right."

She reached into her pocket, and drew out a business card. Only it wasn't from the employment agency Jack had mentioned, but one of her own cards. And it was her personal address, as well. "If you are interested in hearing more about the job, come and see me tomorrow."

I looked at her, then the card, and finally reached out to take it. "You never did answer my question, you know. About being blind."

She smiled again. "No. But perhaps I will later, if you accept the job."

"If that's supposed to be an enticement, it ain't working."

"If you want an enticement, then perhaps I can teach you to use your telepathy without dropping all your shields."

The car slid to a stop. I wrapped my fingers around the door handle but didn't open it. "And why would you be offering to do that?"

"Because you need it."

"And do you often run around offering psychic training to those who need it?"

"No." Her gaze came to mine. "Only to those who will save us."

"That's the second time you've said that, and it's no clearer now than it was before."

"I guess it isn't." Her gaze fell away as she leaned back in the seat. "I'll see you tomorrow."

It was a dismissal and a statement of fact, all in one. I frowned, but thrust open the door and climbed out. The night had grown colder in the brief time I'd been in the car, the breeze chill. Goose bumps ran across my skin. Thank God I wasn't actually sleeping on the streets tonight. I slammed the car door shut and watched Dia's black limo disappear into the night.

"So," I said, rubbing my bare arms as I looked around to see where I was. "You heard it all?"

"Yes. And I'm mighty disappointed you didn't tell me about the fluctuations in your telepathy strength."

"It's only just started happening, boss. With everything else that's been going on, it just slipped my mind."

"That's not good enough, Riley. We need to keep a close check on what is going on with your psi-abilities."

"So I'll try and remember to tell you the next time anything strange happens."

"Don't try. Do." He paused. "Why didn't you finish off those vamps?"

"You want them dead, you kill them."

"We have, but that's not the point."

No, the point was he wanted me to kill on order. I might have acknowledged the need to become a guardian—if only internally—but that didn't mean I had to happily dive straight into the killing bit.

"The card she gave me has her personal address, not that employment agency she and Starr have been using as a front." I looked left and right, then crossed the road, heading for the shops on the other side. Coffee and chocolate were in order—they might not actually ease the ache in my head, but they'd at least make me feel a little bit better.

"It's not a front, but a registered agency."

"Has she ever used her house before?"

"Given we've only been following her for six weeks, it's hard to say."

"So she could suspect something?"

"She didn't sound suspicious."

"No." I hesitated. "I've just got this feeling she knew more than what she was saying."

"She'd be naturally suspicious of anyone—which is why she does a check on them first."

"Maybe." I pushed open the door of the 7-Eleven, and helped myself to coffee—they didn't have hazelnut, so I compensated with a hazelnut chocolate bar—then I headed around to grab some Panadol. Off-the-shelf painkillers mightn't be the strongest available, but they were better than nothing. Once I'd paid the man, I headed back out.

"What did you make of her saying, 'You will save us'?"

"A slip of the tongue, perhaps?"

"She didn't seem the sort to do anything by mistake." I sipped my coffee, wincing a little at its bitter taste. "There's something going on here that we don't understand."

"It's natural to feel that, given we know so little about her or her relationship with Starr." He paused. "But be careful all the same."

Like I wasn't going to be? "How thorough a background search did you do?"

"Very. We don't send people into dangerous situations willy-nilly, you know."

I grinned. "I'm mighty glad to hear that. So what now?"

"You go find a room at an appropriate hotel and catch some sleep."

"Then?"

"Then, we see what tomorrow brings."

"Meaning, lots of things are happening, but you're not telling me just in case things go wrong my end and I blab details."

He chuckled. "Rhoan's right. For a girl, you're pretty damn clever."

Meaning, as I'd suspected, he'd been watching and listening in to our training session. "If I was clever, I wouldn't be standing here on a deserted St. Kilda street, freezing my butt off, but in New York, or Paris, or even London—somewhere they couldn't give a damn about what my DNA could do for them."

"I'm not interested in your DNA."

"No, just what I could do for your new guardian squad," I replied dryly. "So how in the hell do I get to Dia's place from here?"

"Catch one of the trams that run along Malvern Road, and get off at Kooyong Road. Huntingfield is halfway between Malvern and Toorak."

"So either way I'm hiking."

"It won't kill you."

"Says the man who wasn't beaten to a pulp by Gautier yesterday."

"I feel obliged to point out that you weren't, cither."

Only thanks to the fact he'd intervened. "Night, Jack."

"Night, Poppy."

I snorted and flicked the button behind my ear. The slight buzz of energy that had been teasing my lobes died, but the ache in my head didn't. I popped a couple of the Panadol, swilling them down with the bitter coffee, then munched on more chocolate to take away the aftertaste.

After strolling along for several blocks, I found a dingy-looking hotel that had rooms for rent at cheap rates. Just the sort of place someone like Poppy might settle for—though if I wasn't playing her part, I certainly wouldn't have gone near the place. The hotel sat next to a bar, so not only did it stink of sweaty humanity, but booze as well. The raucous laughter coming from inside the bar suggested heavy patronage—which in turn meant little sleep. I blew out a breath, reminded myself it was only for one night, and headed inside.

The reek was worse within the four walls, and the rooms more dilapidated than the outside. The bed itself looked older than Methuselah, and had obviously seen more than a few couplings on it. I screwed up my nose, and glanced at the floor. The carpet looked no better, but at least the floor didn't have a disastrous sag in it.

With a sigh, I hauled off the blankets—which at least looked and smelled clean—and made myself a bed on the floor. Then I stripped off, shifted shape to hurry along the already healing scratches on my arms, and settled down to sleep.