“She just spent the night with the prince of darkness,” Alaric said indignantly. “You really think I’m so scary in comparison?”

Alaric found it disappointing that Holtzman only glanced at his scar again and said nothing. His scar wasn’t so scary. What was really scary, in Alaric’s opinion, was Holtzman’s suit.

Chapter Thirty-one

10:30 A.M. EST, Friday, April 16

BAO

155 Avenue of the Americas

New York, New York

Well, look at this,” Leisha said when Meena appeared before her styling station that morning at BAO (By Appointment Only). “Someone’s been a bad, bad girl.”

Leisha was stretched with her long, bare legs crossed at the ankles like a Nubian queen in her own styling chair, balancing a large grilled-chicken salad in a plastic carry-out container over her bulging stomach, even though the salon’s owner, Jimmy, had a strict no-eating-at-your-station rule.

But Jimmy’s rules didn’t apply to Leisha since she was his most popular hairstylist and seven months pregnant, besides. It would be a disaster for Jimmy-and BAO-if Leisha quit.

Meena pointed wordlessly to the empty chair at the station next to Leisha’s.

“Take it,” Leisha said, waving a hand, her many bracelets jangling, her nails, Meena noticed, recently French tipped. Someone in the salon had been using her fingers for practice. “Ramone took a personal day because he found out his boyfriend hasn’t deleted himself from Grindr. So.” Leisha shot her an aggravated look. “I’m totally pissed at you. Jon said you went on a walk with some guy after the countess’s party, and then you never came back. And then this morning on the news, they said they found another dead girl. Obviously, I’ve been sitting here all morning thinking it was you. At least until you finally texted me back. I was worried sick. You can ask anyone here. Sick.”

Meena looked pointedly at the chicken salad. “Not so sick that you couldn’t order an early lunch without me.”

“This isn’t me,” Leisha said, pointing at her belly. “It’s him! He doesn’t care what happens to you. He’s starving. And kicking me. Oh, my God. You wouldn’t believe how he’s been kicking me all morning. And it’s all your fault.”

“How is it my fault?” Meena asked, leaning down and picking up Jack Bauer and putting him on her lap. He snuggled against her, needing a little TLC. Now that Lucien wasn’t around, he was back to his normal, nongrowling self.

“For putting me through all that!” Leisha declared. “You think Thomas can’t feel how scared I was for you? What were you thinking? You never hook up with strange men. What was going through your head, Harper?”

Meena gave Jack Bauer a good scratching beneath his neck, and he threw back his throat in ecstasy.

“He wasn’t a strange guy, Leish,” she said instead of pointing out that Leisha’s doctor had gotten her baby’s sex wrong, which didn’t seem like it would be helpful. “He was the guy from the other night. With the bats.”

Leisha stared at her. “But that’s impossible.”

Meena was scratching the dog so hard that his hind leg began to thump. She toned it down.

“No,” she said. “Not impossible. Fact. Lucien Antonescu-the guy the countess was trying to fix me up with?-is the same guy who saved me from the bats outside of the cathedral. I know it sounds crazy. But it’s true. And, Leish, I like him. More than like him.”

Leisha shook her head. “No wonder you came straight here instead of going home before work. You’re having a mental breakdown.”

Meena frowned. “How am I having a mental breakdown? Do you think I’m making this up?”

“No. Because that’s so messed up!”

“Because I slept with him?”

“Because it’s so weird that it should be the same guy!” Leisha declared. “Of course you slept with him. And I should hope you like him. Seeing as how you scared us all half to death disappearing into the night with him.” She set her chicken salad down on the rolling hair dryer stand between their two chairs and tried to get as comfortable as a seven-months-pregnant woman could. “So. How was it?”

“It was-” Meena looked up toward the ceiling, which Jimmy had left open, though he’d had all the ductwork painted silver and black and the ceiling behind it painted a deep purple. “Amazing,” she said, sighing. “Really. I don’t know any other way to describe it.”

“Adjectives, please,” Leisha said. “I’ve been having sex with the same man for almost seven years now, and I’m over it. I want details. Did he sink your battleship?”

“Leish!” Meena cried, laughing.

“Seriously,” Leisha said. “I don’t care about anything else. Oh, wait, I do. What’s his expiration date?”

Meena regarded her friend with a face wreathed in smiles. “That’s the best part. He doesn’t have one. Or maybe it’s just…”

Meena let her voice trail off. She’d been going to say, maybe it was just that her ability to foretell people’s deaths was fading.

But she knew that wasn’t true. What about baby Weinberg and the weird feeling she had about her?

She had to tell Leisha. She had to.

But how could she do it without scaring the wits out of her?

“Maybe it’s just what?” Leisha gave her an exasperated look. “What is with you? You look so weird. Are you sure you’re all right? I think you might have a fever or something. Let me feel your head.”

Leisha’s fingers felt cool against Meena’s forehead. Meena wished she’d keep them pressed there forever. Maybe she did have a fever.

“Hmmm,” Leisha said. “You’re definitely running a little hot. What’d this guy do to you, exactly? Is that the flush of a new love affair? Or did he give you swine flu?”

“Oh, Leish,” Meena said. “He was so great.” She knew she was gushing, but she couldn’t help it. She could still smell Lucien on her skin from where he’d kissed her good-bye. “He’s just so…different than other guys I’ve met lately, you know? I mean, he doesn’t even know what Call of Duty is. And he made me breakfast. He asked how I like my eggs. And he ran a bath for me. And he was nice to Jack, even though Jack behaved like a total lunatic and did nothing but growl at him all night long. And…”

“So it was perfect,” Leisha said, finishing for her.

“It was perfect,” Meena said. Then something occurred to her, and she chewed her lower lip. “Except…”

“What?” Leisha’s dark brows slanted downward. “Don’t tell me. He’s married. He’s got a wife back in Estonia.”

“Romania,” Meena said, correcting her. “And no, of course not. That’s not it. There’s just something…okay, don’t laugh. But there’s something…sad about him.”

“Sad?” Leisha shook her head so that her long black hair, which she’d straightened with a hot comb and then curled into a sassy retro flip, skimmed her shoulders. “What do you mean, sad? Like a loser? Haven’t you had enough of losers after David?”

“No,” Meena said. “Not loser sad. More like something really sad happened to him once. And he never got it over it.”

“Maybe his wife died in childbirth,” Leisha said. Leisha, unlike Meena, loved movies with unhappy endings; the sadder the better. Leisha was a huge Nicholas Sparks fan. “Or died in a tragic car crash just hours before they were supposed to get married! Or was smothered to death in a Peruvian mudslide while inoculating orphans.”

Meena gave her a sarcastic look.

“Coming back to reality,” Meena said, “I think he had a crappy childhood. He didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Afterward-you know-I asked him about his family, and he said both his parents were dead. He said he has a half brother, but they’re not close.”

“Well, so there you go,” Leisha said, looking a little disappointed there wasn’t a dead wife who could be played by Rachel McAdams in the movie version of the story. “He just needs the love of a good woman to perk him up. A woman like you…the woman he saved from a bat attack! It’s so romantic. Except for the part where you boned him on the first date. That is totally so out of character for you. Let me feel your head again. I want to see if your fever’s gotten any worse.”