Alaric grunted, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. The truth was, he was starting to form his own theories on that particular topic…

“I mean, he could have anybody.” Jon went on. “Taylor Mackenzie, for instance. Why would he want a pain in the ass like my sister?”

Why indeed? Alaric thought. “She met this woman on the subway?” he asked the brother, instead of responding to his question. “And told her she had a vision she would die?”

“No,” Jon said, slurping his Coke. “Meena just told her to call if she got into trouble. Meena doesn’t tell people they’re going to die. Nobody ever believed her when she did that. So now she just gives them advice.”

Alaric looked back at Meena. “And when they don’t listen to the advice?”

Jon shrugged uncomfortably. “Well…then they die.”

Alaric shook his head. It was bad enough he was in a Shenanigans in Times Square with a woman who was sleeping with the prince of darkness. And wouldn’t stop doing it.

But now he was finding out that this woman might actually really be what she said she was…a psychic.

And if this was really true…then she might prove a valuable resource to his employer.

Yes. Why not? Meena Harper-not her brother-might be just the person the Palatine needed to help in their battle against the undead.

On the one hand, having someone around who could warn them when he and his fellow guards were about to walk into a deathtrap might come in handy.

On the other hand…Alaric wasn’t sure how much time he actually wanted to spend with Meena Harper in the future.

“Daddy, guess what?” blared the cell phone on the hip of the man at the table beside Alaric’s. “We’re watching Astro Boy!”

“That’s great, buddy!” Khaki Pants shouted into his cell phone. Alaric balled a fist.

“Here you go,” the waitress cried, arriving with a heaping tray of fried foods. “Your Taco Torpedoes and your Spicy Stax, curly fries, and Onion Brick-”

“What about my Sticky Wings?” Jon asked, looking worried.

“Right here,” the woman said, laying several thousand calories in a basket before Meena’s brother.

“Sweet,” Jon said, and began digging in hungrily. They’d had to leave before he had time to finish breakfast due to Meena’s insistence that they meet Yalena on time.

Alaric eyed the food on the table in front of him. It all looked amazingly…good. Particularly the Sticky Wings.

Jon, apparently noting Alaric’s longing gaze, said, “Dig in. Seriously. You won’t believe how good it is. And you better eat it before Meena gets back over here, because there won’t be anything left when she’s done with it. That’s why she didn’t order. She was trying to be health-conscious, but it never works. She’s addicted to Shenanigans. She may look small, but you wouldn’t believe how much food she can put away. You should see her secret candy drawer at work. It’s truly disgusting.”

Alaric studied the many baskets in front of him. Then he shrugged, lifted a wing, and bit into it.

The flavors that exploded into his mouth were like nothing he’d ever experienced. The foie gras at Per Se couldn’t hold a candle to it.

Behind him, Khaki Pants’s cell phone beeped loudly, then roared with static. Munchkin shouted, “Daddy, Daddy, Mommy wants to know when you’re coming home!”

Alaric laid down his chicken bone. Every one of his muscles tensed for what he knew was coming next. He had no choice, really.

He was going to have to wipe the floor with Khaki Pants for disrupting his dining experience and that of everyone around him. It was, simply, bad manners.

Jon wiped his face with a napkin. “No,” he said, holding up a hand. “Allow me.”

Alaric watched skeptically as Jon rose, stepped over to the table beside theirs, and yanked the cell phone from the belt of Khaki Pants.

“Munchkin,” Jon said into the cell phone. “Can you tell your mommy that your daddy can’t talk now because he’s having lunch with another woman? And that the other woman has really big boobies? Be sure to tell Mommy about the lady’s boobies.”

“Okay,” said Munchkin excitedly into the phone.

“What the hell?” burst out Khaki Pants, standing up so quickly that his chair flipped over backward.

Alaric, picking up another chicken wing, chewed, enjoying the show…

At least until he noticed a man wearing a hooded sweatshirt and a Yankees baseball cap pulled low over his eyes coming up the stairs, his gaze, behind a pair of mirrored sunglasses, fixed on Meena and Yalena.

Alaric laid down his chicken wing and reached for some napkins with which to wipe his fingers.

“Now, Phil,” the woman with the mink jacket said. “Don’t get excited. Remember your heart.”

“Maybe you ought to take your calls outside,” Jon said, handing Phil his cell phone. “It’ll keep you out of trouble.”

“Maybe I will,” Phil said in a huff as static crackled on his phone and a woman’s voice came on, squawking, “Phil? Phil? What’s munchkin saying about you and some woman?”

Phil pushed a button and the woman’s voice was abruptly cut off. He put the phone to his ear and said, “Aw, honey, never mind. It was just a joke. Some New York nut,” as he moved swiftly toward the stairs…

…brushing shoulders with the man in the baseball cap and sunglasses, who was reaching for the inside pocket of his leather jacket with a gloved hand as he moved swiftly toward Meena and Yalena’s table.

Alaric swore and slid from the booth while pulling out his sword at the same time.

Jon was sidling back into the booth opposite him, looking pleased with himself.

“See?” he said to Alaric. “Some situations you can solve without swinging a sword around…wait. What’s happening? Where are you going?”

But Alaric had already launched himself over the woman in the mink coat-who’d stayed in her seat to finish her daiquiri and texts-pulling Señor Sticky from its scabbard as he dove. Over at Yalena’s table, Gerald-because of course it was Yalena’s boyfriend Gerald in the ball cap and hoodie; who else could it be?-had tugged something small and black from his leather jacket and was pressing it to Meena’s back, speaking to her in a low voice, his sunglasses still shading his eyes beneath the baseball cap brim.

No one in the restaurant was paying the least bit of attention to them. All eyes were now on Alaric, the crazy man in the leather trench coat, doing gymnastic flips with a sword in his hand. Only Alaric saw Meena’s spine go straight as a pool cue again, her eyes wide and frightened looking.

Meanwhile, across the table, Yalena didn’t seem the least bit surprised. More like relieved it wasn’t her rib cage the gun was pressed into this time.

At least, not until Alaric came crashing down beside them.

Then he got a reaction out of Yalena. Her mouth formed a perfect little O of surprise.

Which got even bigger when Alaric seized Gerald by the neck with one hand and brought the flat of his blade smartly down on Gerald’s wrist with the other, causing him to drop the pistol in pain.

Alaric looked down at the.22 Ruger on the floor with a smirk.

“Planning on doing some target practice later?” he asked Gerald. Gerald opened his mouth and let out a hiss, revealing a set of extremely pointed incisors…along with a curled, pointed tongue that darted in and out of his mouth like a snake. Meena, her eyes wide with horror, jumped from her chair and hugged the wall, knocking some Shenanigans memorabilia onto the floor.

“Oh, my God,” she cried. “He’s-”

“Yes, he is, isn’t he,” Alaric said calmly, still holding the vampire by the throat. “Do me a favor, will you? Reach into my coat.”

Meena lifted a shaking hand, then plunged it into the deep pocket of Alaric’s trench coat.

“Got it?” he asked as he felt her slim fingers close around what was at the bottom of his pocket.

“Got it,” Meena said, pulling out a small crystal vial and studying it curiously. “What is it?”