“Good heavens, no,” he said, coming to a halt in the middle of his path across the kitchen. He looked horrified. “We don’t condone this sort of thing under normal circumstances. Alaric has his own methods, of course, and, well, though I can’t say I actually approve of them, they have been shown over time to have surprising effectiveness-”

Meena held up a hand to stop him. “Say no more,” she said drily. “I get the picture.”

It did bother her a little, however, that her brother had volunteered so cavalierly to “help” Alaric, and several of the Franciscan friars who lived in the rectory, torture Stefan.

“Miss Harper,” Abraham Holtzman said, looking slightly disturbed, “I can tell by your tone that you may not be particularly fond of Guardsman Wulf-and, by extension, the Palatine-which, for a woman in your current circumstances, is perfectly understandable.”

Meena felt herself blushing. She was aware that Alaric had told his boss what her “current circumstances” were-that she was sleeping with the prince of darkness-and she was thoroughly mortified. That this total stranger (who was old enough to be her father) knew the most intimate details of her life was not okay.

Did Sister Gertrude know, too? Meena darted a nervous look in the older woman’s direction, but she was serenely trying to get Yalena to eat a fresh-baked chocolate chip cookie from the batch she’d just pulled from the oven. (Meena had been shoveling Sister Gertrude’s cookies into her mouth nonstop since the nun had led them back into the rectory’s kitchen from the cab they’d all come tumbling out of-Alaric had kept Stefan Dominic smothered under his own black leather trench coat in order to protect him from the sun, and at sword-point, the entire ride downtown…much to the bemusement of their cabbie.)

Abraham Holtzman went on. “Whatever impression Guardsman Wulf might have given you, and I don’t doubt it’s been a colorful one, you should know that he’s one of our most highly skilled officers. He garners more kills every year than the average guard accumulates in an entire career. That he manages to do so with zero loss of civilian life is a truly unheard-of accomplishment in our line of work.” Abraham looked thoughtful. “He has a grating personal manner. I’ll give you that. But considering his background, it’s only to be expected.”

Meena raised her eyebrows. “His background?” she asked.

“Well, the fact that he’s…” Abraham looked uncomfortably at Sister Gertrude and Yalena and whispered, “A bastard.”

Meena had to suppress a smile.

“In America we call that being raised by a single mom,” she whispered back. “And it’s actually not that big a deal. It happens to a lot of people.”

“Oh, but he wasn’t,” Abraham said. “His mother was a drug addict who abandoned him. He grew up on the streets until he was put into a youth home, which is where the Palatine found him. Now what is this about you being some kind of psychic?” Abraham asked, before Meena had time to get over her surprise at hearing this about a man who seemed to go about life with such a chip on his shoulder. “This is very unlikely, isn’t it? Perhaps Alaric misunderstood. He often does. His people skills leave much to be desired…understandably.”

Meena bristled. What was up with men who worked for the Palatine Guard? Were they all completely arrogant?

“Yes,” she said. “That’s right. He misunderstood.”

“I thought so.” Abraham looked out the rectory windows and then at his watch. “The sun is starting to set. Sister, I think we’d better move Miss Yalena to a room without windows.”

“That’s a good idea,” Sister Gertrude said. She laid gentle hands on Yalena’s shoulders. “Come along, dear.”

“Wait,” Meena said as Yalena rose-like an obedient child-and allowed the nun to begin steering her from the room. “I don’t understand. A room without windows? What do you think is going to happen when the sun sets?”

“Well,” Abraham said, looking a bit uncomfortable, “I think it’s very likely that after darkness falls, the Dracul will come here looking for you, Miss Harper.”

“Me?” Meena blurted. She stared at him. “What would the Dracul want with me?”

“Well, that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” Abraham said with the same sort of eagerness any other type of academic might show. He just happened to be an expert on demonology. “But there’s a reason that vampire downstairs went to such elaborate lengths to stage an abduction of you during daylight hours. Very risky. He could easily have been fried alive. Someone wants you, Miss Harper, very much. Whether it’s the dark lord or someone else…”

Meena opened her mouth to say that it was ridiculous to suggest that Lucien was behind the kidnapping attempt on her. True, she did remember exacting a promise from him, right before falling asleep in his arms at dawn, that he would go away and never come back…otherwise he was going to kill her brother and Alaric.

But kidnap her against her will so that they could be together? Never. Lucien loved her, and she him. He would never have sent anyone to do such a thing to her. He’d have kidnapped her himself.

Wait. No, he wouldn’t.

Would he?

Abraham Holtzman, however, didn’t give her the chance to say a word.

“The best thing we can do right now is batten down the hatches, as they say, and prepare for a long night. You and I can defend ourselves, of course, but this young lady here…” He sent a compassionate glance in Yalena’s direction; she still stood in the doorway, Sister Gertrude’s arm around her. “Well, she’s best off safely tucked in bed, I think.”

Sister Gertrude nodded, not seeming at all ruffled at the suggestion that her church might come under vampire attack now that it was getting dark out.

“I’ll put some garlic on her door, for good measure,” the nun said with a hearty nod.

“Excellent idea,” Abraham Holtzman said. “The oldies are still the goodies.”

“And I’ve got my Beretta semiautomatic,” Sister Gertrude added cheerfully, patting her habit, “right here with the silver bullets. That ought to take out a few of those dirtbags.”

Meena’s eyes widened. No wonder she had such a bad feeling about all this.

These people were completely nuts.

Yalena surprised everyone by opening her mouth and trying to speak. “I-” Her blue-eyed gaze was fixed on Meena. Yalena stood in the doorway, wrapped in the absurdly huge comforter, with the stout little nun’s arm around her.

“I-sorry,” Yalena finally managed to say, a tear escaping from one swollen eyelid and trickling slowly down her bruised cheek. “I not want to call you, Meena. I not want to g-get you in trouble like I in trouble. But he find the card you give me. Right away, he find it. And today, for some reason, they make me call you. They say they do to me what they do to…the other girls if I don’t. I so sorry!”

She flung both her trembling hands over her face and burst into sobs. Sister Gertrude tsk-tsked with her tongue and hugged Yalena’s slight form fiercely to her bosom.

“There, there, dear,” Sister Gertrude said. “They’re nasty, nasty creatures. You mustn’t blame yourself. You didn’t know.”

“I not know,” Yalena sobbed into Sister Gertrude’s habit. “I not know!”

Meena got up from the kitchen table and went to lay a hand on Yalena’s slender back, her heart twisting for the girl.

“It’s all right, Yalena,” she said. “It was good that you called me. I told you to, remember? I said I’d help you, and I did.” Well, technically, Alaric had. But she was the one who’d brought Alaric and his sword arm along. “But,” Meena added, “I need to know…what other girls?”

Yalena lifted her bruised, tear-stained face from Sister Gertrude’s shoulder and said, sniffling, “For the bankers. Gerald, he not a manager for actresses.” Yalena looked infinitely sad. “He only wants girls to feed to the bankers.”

“To feed to the bankers?” Meena shook her head, completely confused…and horrified. “Yalena, what are you talking about?”