“I am no one’s ‘errand girl’,” Laura replied through gritted teeth. “Zachary asked that I do this as a favor to him.”

“You don’t strike me as a woman who does a lot of favors for people.”

“Zachary is special, a fact which you would do well to realize, Miss Morrow.”

“I have enough special people in my life already, I don’t have room for bloodsuckers.”

“Typical. You witches are so disappointing, so much wasted potential. All that power, and your greatest desire is to have a home and a few squalling, needy brats to cling to your skirts. Pathetic.” Laura scowled, her voice dripping with loathing.

“Yeah, well, the market on villains was already cornered by you undead assholes.”

“There is nothing evil about pursuing power. In fact I’ve always thought it rather sinful to let your God-given abilities be squandered. I won’t expect you to understand.”

“You know what they say about absolute power,” I muttered. The elevator doors opened and Laura stepped out. A short hallway ended in a pair of heavy wooden doors, and Laura opened them without hesitation. The room we entered was large and had a definite male feeling to it-dark wood, deep colors, lots of shiny, expensive electronic gadgets scattered around. A pinball machine and an old-school video arcade game were tucked into a far corner. There was a dining table set up in the same formal, overdone setting I’d come to expect of meals in Vampire Central. Laura drew to a stop next to the table and peered around, looking for Harrison.

“Good evening, ladies.” We both turned toward the sound of his voice, and for the first time Lovely Laura and I had the same reaction to something: shock. Zachary Harrison, multi-zillionaire businessman and king of the undead castle, was wearing blue jeans and a plain white T-shirt. It was obvious from the cut and the color that these were designer jeans, and someone had taken time to distress them instead of letting wear and tear rough them up. Still, it wasn’t a suit. He looked really good for a dead guy-like someone who might stop into the Three Willows for a sandwich on his lunch break, who I’d flirt with while refilling his coffee.

“What has she done to you?” Laura asked, horrified.

Harrison chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “I was reminded that denim is the American way.”

The corners of my mouth crept up in a slight smile. As much as I hated him, it was damn amusing to watch Lovely Laura squirm in her pretty shoes. With a sound of disgust, she folded her arms across her chest.

“Which would explain why American fashion is tedious and inferior,” she countered icily. “I’ll leave you two to your evening.” Nodding at Harrison, she turned and strode out of the room, her high heels clicking angrily on the hardwood floor.

“Gee, I think we’re both in trouble now.” I raised an eyebrow at her exit. “You might be grounded.”

“It would appear so. Do you approve of the outfit?”

“Not bad.” I shrugged, looking him up and down thoughtfully. “It gives you the false illusion of being a nice guy.”

“I am a nice guy,” he protested, appearing hurt.

“No you’re not. Besides, even if you were nice for a vampire, that’s like being nice for a shark or a crocodile. You’re still a predator in designer jeans.”

Harrison winced, seemingly wounded by my frank assessment of him, and I almost felt bad. The memory of locking myself in the bathroom and sleeping in a nest of fluffy white hotel towels kept me from believing his act. Nice guys don’t drink blood, period.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“That’s a very broad question.”

“I thought you were going to leave me alone.”

“I agreed not to harm you. I see no harm in having dinner and engaging in polite conversation.”

“There wasn’t any harm in it last time either until you decided to have me for dessert.” I scowled.

“A mistake which I have apologized for, Catherine. Repeatedly. I didn’t bring you here to bite you, I merely want to get to know you better.” Spreading his hands wide in a placating gesture, he stepped toward me, sincerity shadowing those lovely green eyes. I stood my ground, watching him as he drew closer. I’m sure he intended to give my shoulder a comforting pat or some other benign social contact, but much to his surprise he collided with my shields instead. Blinking, he gazed at me in surprise, and I smiled sweetly. Harrison rubbed his hand where it had come in contact with the energy. His pride probably hurt more than his hand did.

“You don’t trust me not to harm you, even though I gave my word.”

“I don’t trust you at all, Harrison,” I replied, my hands on my hips.

“Zach,” he said, and I frowned. “Call me Zach, please. I’m only Harrison during work hours.” With a charming smile, he turned and pulled out one of the chairs in an invitation for me to sit down. “What would you like to drink?”

“A glass of wine, please.” Reluctantly, I sat down and let him push my chair in. I wasn’t going to win this argument, and since I was safe behind my shields I might as well play along with his plans. Zach nodded and crossed to the bar, producing a bottle from beneath it. After uncorking the bottle he poured the contents into a glass. I had a feeling the wine hadn’t been on sale at the corner store, but I’d never be able to tell if it was fine wine or not.

“I took the liberty of ordering dinner. It should arrive soon.” He set the glass down in front of me and then poured one for himself. “In the meantime, there are a few things I would like to discuss with you.”

“Great.” Sipping my drink, I eyed him, knowing I wasn’t going to like whatever he had to say. Taking the seat across from me, the vampire leaned back into his chair and folded his hands in his lap.

“I know you don’t approve of my plans for the future of magician society, and I agree they may seem a little radical on the surface. I’d like the chance to work with you on this subject. Perhaps we could develop a new strategy together.” Unimpressed, I waited for the punch line, because there had to be more to this story. “You must agree that things can’t continue as they have been, not in these times.”

“I’ve been getting along well enough.”

“Have you? I’m sure you noticed that your room was stocked with your favorite books, clothing in your exact size, we even picked your preferred brands of liquor for your bar. How do you think we found that information?”

“I figured you hacked into my credit card history, and probably my discount cards for the grocery store I go to, and the bookstore too. It’d be easy enough for you, it’d only take a mediocre computer nerd to find that stuff out and you can obviously afford better than average.”

“Then you wouldn’t be surprised to learn what else we found. A record of every candle, oil, crystal and herb you’ve bought within the last five years. A list of the ‘questionable’ reading material you own, the pagan websites you visit on a regular basis, and the associates you communicate with who share similar interests. Catalogued, indexed and recorded in a government database.”

My mouth dropped open and my jaw worked a few times as I struggled to find the words to respond. “But…why? It’s not a crime, that doesn’t make any sense. Why should anyone care?”

“Because religion isn’t as free as it used to be. Magicians who haven’t been careful about concealing their beliefs, like yourself, have been designated as potential threats by the moral majority.”

“Potential threats doesn’t mean they’re about to round us up into internment camps.”

“They already are,” he replied. I choked on a sip of wine.

“What?”

“Shapeshifters have been disappearing across the country for the past few months. A few here and there, not enough to raise an alarm.”

“Then how’d you know about it?”

“I have my sources,” Zach replied mysteriously.

It seemed far-fetched to me. Shapeshifters live on the edges of magician society, rarely interacting with others. I couldn’t imagine them calling up Harrison to rescue them from some shady government bad guys. I scowled at him in annoyance, but my chance for a stinging retort was foiled by the arrival of our food. The waiter removed the silver dome atop my plate and revealed an enormous cheeseburger and a stack of French fries. Before disappearing, the waiter placed a bottle of ketchup next to my plate, and I stared at it in equal wonder. Fast food was the last thing I would have expected for dinner, especially considering that during our last meal together I’d barely recognized the food I’d been served. I looked up at my host, wondering if it was too good to be true, and he chuckled at my reaction.