"Always. It is what he does."

Wasn't that the truth. "Is he expected anywhere near the place over the next couple of weeks?"

"Unless something dramatic happens, no. There's too many people going to be around. I doubt he'd take the chance of exposure."

Good. Because I didn't want to be anywhere near the bastard, disguise or no. "Anything else I need to know before I board the bus this afternoon?"

She hesitated. "There will be eleven other women with you, all either shifters or weres. At least one of them is not who she pretends to be."

I raised my eyebrows. "Another plant?"

"No. She wants revenge."

Then maybe I could enlist her help sometime over the next few weeks. "Who?"

Dia smiled. "That I shall let you figure out yourself. I'd hate to influence your instincts."

"Meaning you're not entirely sure of your own guesses?"

"Meaning, I cannot say whether she will be a help or a hindrance to what either of us want."

Uh-huh. Typical psychic avoidance of the question if ever I'd heard it. "Why only twelve of us?"

"Because three women stayed on after the last moon dance."

"Why only three? I would have thought the money would be enticement enough to stay longer."

"I honestly don't know. Perhaps they simply wish to go home."

Or perhaps there was more going on behind the scenes than Dia was aware of. "Will it be safe to talk to you once you arrive at the estate?"

"In the house, no. As I said, there are voice monitors in the halls. But I will endeavor to be outside whenever possible. I have made it a habit to wander the grounds, so Starr will not think it unusual."

"There's nothing else?"

"Not that I can immediately think of."

"Good." I half held out my hand, then dropped it. Not because she couldn't see the action, but because she might do another reading. I had a feeling I wouldn't like what she might see. "I'll see you there, then."

She simply nodded. I flung the backpack over my shoulder and escorted myself out. I'd barely made it through the wrought iron gates when a black van cruised up beside me, the side door opening even as I looked up.

"Get in," Jack ordered, both in my ear and out loud.

I did. As the van cruised on, Jack swiveled away from a bank of com-screens and monitors that lined one wall of the van and held out a hand. I gave him the notebook and contract.

"This is a bit of a risk, isn't it?" I plonked down on the other swivel chair and scanned the monitors. They were showing nothing more than fences, trees, and a long expanse of lawn.

"Dia knows who we are. And if what she said about Starr holding her daughter hostage is true, then he has no need to monitor her when she is not at the estate. Nor have we found any evidence of it."

Didn't mean there wasn't. If Starr knew about the Fravardin, what was to stop him creating similar creatures for his own use? I watched Jack flick through the notebook's pages, then asked, "Anything useful?"

He looked up, then gave me back the book. "Lots. Memorize it, then I can arrange to get the information to Kade and Rhoan."

I raised my eyebrows. "How? Neither of them are telepathic."

"No. But we currently have use of the seconded hawk-shifters, and only the fence line is fully monitored."

Which is basically what Dia had said. I nodded toward the monitors. "That the estate?"

"Yes. We're trying to get cameras closer to the house, but they're doing regular checks and it's making it extremely difficult."

I raised my eyebrows. "Stepping up security because he's called all his generals in?"

"I suspect so. After all, what better time would there be for another cartel to strike?"

"Given what Dia said about the vampire attack, he may be installing infrared, also." Which would put a serious dent in my nightly activities. I could shadow as well as any vampire, but infrared would pick up my heat trail.

"We're monitoring the infrared companies. So far, no order has been placed."

"What about the black market?"

"The devices can certainly be bought, but installation requires specialist knowledge, and there are only a dozen or so qualified people in Melbourne." He pointed to the notebook. "Start memorizing."

He went through the work agreement as I studied the notebook. Starr's estate consisted of over fifty acres of forest and paddocks. The house itself was a huge, square-shaped, double-story complex that featured not only a soccer field sized arena in the middle of the square, but an Olympic sized pool and a huge gym complex. Set apart from the main building were several smaller ones, including quarters for security and the prostitutes. The barn and the zoo were on the opposite side of the complex to these. Behind them was a manmade lake apparently big enough to yacht on.

"Standard work agreement," Jack said, after a while.

"The only interesting point is agreeing to have your memories 'rearranged' when you leave."

"Which is what is happening to the whores."

He nodded and glanced at his watch. "We'll drop you off near the meeting point at one. That gives you an hour to read the rest of the notes as well as the contract."

So I read and memorized while he studied the banks of monitors. What he was looking for I had no idea, especially since there didn't seem to be a lot happening on them. At one, they dropped me off at a Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet. Obviously, he'd heard my stomach rumbling. Either that, or it was a last meal for the doomed. I grabbed a dinner for two—once again thanking my lucky stars that a werewolf's increased metabolic rate made it almost impossible for me to gain weight once I'd hit adulthood—then headed down to the meeting point to see who else might be waiting.

Three women were already there. Two were sullen excuses of womanhood, thin and rangy looking—in that long distance runner sort of way. The third was taller, broader, with spiky, bleached-blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. She had tats up her arms and trouble written all over her sharp features. I would have categorized her as punk, except for the way she stood. It wasn't the typical, bite me or fight me stance that so many of the street kids in need of an attitude adjustment had, but rather that of someone who fought for a living. Light on her toes.

I gave her a nod, ignored the other two, and sat on a nearby brick fence to eat my chicken. Animosity rode the air, coming from the direction of the rangy chicks rather than the toey one, but neither of them said anything as other women began to roll up. By two, we had a full complement, and a good cross-reference of shapes, colors, and race. I didn't see another werewolf, but there were werecats, a bear-shifter, bird-shifters, and a sly-looking woman with red hair and reddish skin who surely had to be a werefox. The arena was going to be interesting, to say the least.

The bus rolled in about five minutes after the last woman had arrived, and a big man with slate gray hair climbed off. "Okay, ladies," he bellowed, in a drill sergeant tone. "When I read your name, you will board the bus."

He began snapping off names, and like obedient little soldiers, we rose and entered the bus. I hesitated on the top step, my gaze sweeping the semidarkness. There were plenty of empty seats, but most of the women already aboard had chosen to sit near the back. The bear-shifter sat about halfway down, her large frame barely squeezing into the seat. Her gaze, when it met mine, was challenging, as if daring me to sit with her, so I walked down the aisle and plonked down on the scat opposite hers.

"The little wolf is game," she said, her voice a rumble that seemed to come from somewhere deep. "Most of the others seemed a little afraid to come close."

"The wolf is only little compared to some." I made a show of looking her up and down. She was a big woman—in all ways—but the crow's-feet touching the corners of her brown eyes, along with the dimples in her cherub cheeks, suggested a good nature that was at odds with the attitude she was projecting and the fierce reputation bear-shifters had. "But with mitts like that, you can hardly blame them. I think they should be labeled an unfair advantage."