That had done it, all right.

Because there was no way this girl could have known that was where he was staying.

So she couldn’t possibly have been making this up.

“Look again,” he said to her. He was still speaking gently, because there was something about Meena Harper’s body language-the way she’d curled in on herself ever since he’d shown her that bite mark on her thigh-that told him that she was a little bit broken and needed careful handling if she was going to heal.

But it was difficult for him to keep the urgency from his tone.

“What do you see?” he asked. He reached for a blanket on the end of the couch and wrapped it around her slender shoulders. “When you look now?”

Meena shook her head. “It’s no good,” she said. “He’s still going to kill you both.”

“Why me?” the brother whined. “What’d I do?”

“But where?” Alaric asked, ignoring Jon. “Where now?”

Meena was still going on. “Not the pool…Somewhere dark. But…something is on fire.” Her eyelids flew open, and she stared at Alaric accusingly. Her voice had some of its old asperity back. “You can’t blame him. He’s only trying to defend himself. You tried to kill him first. You’re the one who started it.”

“Me?” Alaric jabbed a thumb at himself. “Oh, right, I’m the prince of darkness, anointer of all that is unholy, guardian of the infernal. Right. It’s my fault.”

“He didn’t pick who his father is,” Meena said hotly, “any more than you did.”

Alaric reflected briefly to himself that it would have been nice to know who his own father was, if only so he could give the old man a well-deserved kick in the pants for deserting him.

“Meena,” Jon said. “Don’t you think you should just tell us where he is, so we can kill him before he finds and kills us? That’s the way they always do it in the movies. They kill Dracula in his coffin during the day while he’s defenseless sleeping.”

“Vampires don’t actually do the coffin thing,” Alaric remarked.

“Really?” Jon looked stunned. “But-”

“Stoker just added that to amp up the drama,” Alaric said. “Or who knows. Maybe Dracula told him it was true as some kind of sick joke. The guy was pretty twisted. It would make it a lot easier if it were true.”

“You.” Meena glared at Alaric. “You’ve delivered your horrible news. Okay. My boyfriend’s the son of Dracula. Thanks. You can go now.”

“Uh,” Alaric said, “I’m afraid I can’t do that. I’ve got a job to do. Slay the dragon and all of that. I thought I’d made that clear.”

“Oh,” Meena said, nodding. “Like your little medal.”

“Right,” he said with a wink. “Just like St. George.”

“I see the resemblance,” Meena said sarcastically. “Well, good luck with all of that. Now get out of my home before I call the police.”

Alaric looked around the room. Then, spying the telephone sitting on a small table at the end of the couch, he lifted the receiver from its cradle, dropped it on the floor, then stomped on it with one of his massive steel-toed boots.

When he lifted his foot, the receiver lay in many individual parts beneath it.

Meena’s eyes widened to their limits.

“I believe your cell is out of order as well,” Alaric said, looking pointedly at the bits and pieces of her BlackBerry on the floor.

“You can’t hold me a prisoner in my own home,” Meena said…with considerable spirit, he felt, for one who had so recently served as a human blood bank for the son of the dark lord.

“If you want me to go,” Alaric said politely, “I’ll be more than happy to. Just tell me where I can find Lucien Antonescu, and I’ll leave. And as an added bonus, you’ll never have to see me again.”

“But you’ll give me your e-mail, right?” Jon asked Alaric. “Because I’m serious about trying out for this Palatine thing. I know about the hiring freeze, but I think I’d be awesome at-”

“Oh, never mind,” Meena said, interrupting. “You’re both giving me a headache. Go ahead, stay. Stay all night, for all I care. I’m going to bed.”

And with that, she turned and stomped barefoot down the hall, the blanket trailing behind her. She slammed her bedroom door, directly in the face of Jack Bauer, who’d trotted after her.

“There’s no phone in that room, is there?” Alaric asked the brother.

“Of course there is,” Jon replied.

Moving with lightning speed, Alaric leapt across the coffee table and the debris littering the foyer, then flung open the door to Meena’s tastefully decorated-Pottery Barn this time, Alaric had time to observe critically-bedroom just as she was lifting the phone to dial. He snatched the receiver from her hand with a stern, “Tsk tsk tsk. What did we say about using the phone?”

“I wasn’t calling Lucien,” Meena said. “I’m not stupid. I don’t want to get you two killed. I was calling my friend Leisha. I need to talk to someone who isn’t male.”

But Alaric was already walking over to the French doors that led to a small balcony and throwing them open. The night air had become much cooler than it had been when he’d entered the building. Storm clouds, he saw, were moving in, rumbling toward the city across the river like an advancing army.

“Stop,” Meena said, rushing out after him just as he stretched an arm over the ornate wrought iron railing.

“You can’t tell anyone what’s happening here,” he explained. “Not your friend Leisha. Not your mother. Not the police. Not if you want them to live. Do you understand me, Meena? These monsters will kill everyone you love in the blink of an eye if they think it will benefit them in some way.”

“I understand,” Meena said. “But do you understand that there are people down there? If you drop that phone over that railing, you could hit someone.”

Alaric looked over the side of Meena’s balcony railing. “Got any premonitions of anyone’s imminent demise?” he asked.

Meena chewed her lower lip. “Well,” she said. “No. But-”

“Bombs away,” he said, and let go of the phone. The wind whipped it quickly from his hand.

“-it doesn’t work that way,” Meena said, continuing. “I actually have to meet the person. But nice job. You probably just killed someone yourself.”

Down below, a car alarm went off.

“Shame on me,” Alaric said, shaking his head. “I killed a car.”

“You think this is all a joke?” Meena glared up at him in what moonlight peeked out from between the fast-moving storm clouds. “Because it’s not.”

Alaric felt a twinge of disappointment. Meena Harper had done nothing but surprise him, from her resistance-no victim had ever put up as much of a physical fight as she had-to the discovery about her psychic ability.

It would have been nice if she’d proved to be unpredictable in this way as well. But he knew what she was about to say. He’d heard it hundreds of times before.

That was the problem with vampires…and why they needed to be universally eradicated. They worked their way under the skin of even the most sensible, intelligent people and turned them into junkies just as surely as black tar heroin did.

“I know,” Alaric said flatly. “You love him. You can’t live without him. But you see, I can cure that. If you just tell me where he is, I’ll kill him, and then-”

“No,” Meena said, interrupting him. “That wasn’t what I was talking about. Do you ever stop to listen to people? Or do you just go rushing in waving that big sword of yours and ask questions later? He’s going to kill you. And my brother, too. You know I can’t let that happen, Alaric.”

It was the first time she’d said his name. He didn’t know why, but the sound of his name on her lips did something strange to the hair on the back of his neck.

Or maybe that was just the lightning over the Hudson River.

“I can’t be responsible for what happens to your brother,” Alaric said, fighting for calm. And not just because he was starting to realize his attraction to her was more than just physical. “Anyway…from what I understand, he’s been collecting unemployment for some time. You should be happy he’s showing some initiative-”