The rest of him was dressed in the usual bodyguard black. If there were injuries under the clothes, it didn't show when he moved. He moved like there were steel springs in the lean muscles of his body.

"Claudia ordered anyone who takes over to check with you in person, eye to eye. Her orders."

"Did she say why?" I asked, because it was a change.

He looked up then, gave that lopsided smile. I had a moment to see dis­belief on his face, before he looked away. "She filled me in on what's been happening. She wants at least two guards in the room with you, at all times."

"I don't think so," I said.

"That's what I told her you'd say." He gave another glance at me, and I had a second of those green-gray eyes, angry, then down and away again. "With Micah with you, it's not a problem, but if it were only Jean-Claude—" he shrugged. "If you shift for the first time and it's wolf, then he may be able to control you, but if you shift to an animal he doesn't control, then what if you eat him?"

"He's a Master of the City; I think he can handle it."

"You don't get it," Remus said, and he came into the room a step, letting go of the doorknob. He finally looked at me, and held my gaze. Since I give absolute eye contact, it left us staring at each other. His eyes flinched, but he kept the gaze. It was a relief to be able to see his face straight on. "Jean-

Claude is powerful, but in plain unarmed combat, shifters beat vampires. Unless they can mind-fuck us, we will win a fight."

I glanced at Jean-Claude to see how he felt about that. He gave the same lovely, blank face. I turned back to Remus. "So, what, you guys get to watch?"

"Do you think this makes me happy?" he said, and his power flared through the room like a hot wind. He closed his eyes, and counted to ten, or something, because the heat vanished. He gave calmer eyes to all of us, but he knew it was mostly me he had to persuade, so he stared at me. The angry defiance, was back in his eyes. "You have no idea how dangerous you could be when you first shift. You won't just be a lycanthrope—that's bad enough, but you'll be this uber-preternatural power. You'll be a shifter with powers over the dead. If you lose control of one power, maybe you'll lose control of all of them. Do you have any idea what could happen?"

I stared up at him, scared, and not liking it. I could be scared, or I could get angry. Guess which I picked. "The beast blocks the necromancy. Once I give in to one hunger that completely, the others go away."

"Are you a hundred percent sure of that?" he asked.

I opened my mouth to say yes, then hesitated.

Micah answered for me, patting my arm as he did so, "No."

No was truthful, but... "So what do we do?"

"You have to have at least one shapeshifter with you at all times, someone powerful enough to handle the emergency."

"Handle how?" I asked.

"Keep you from hurting anyone too badly."

"Who's on the list of powerful enough?" I asked.

"Me, Claudia, Fredo, Lisandro, Socrates, Brontes, Bobby Lee, Mickey, Ixion. A lot of the wererats are ex-military and meres. But some of them are better at killing than minimizing the damage." He shrugged. "Claudia and Bobby Lee will be in charge of the list, but I know that you won't be left with just Graham and Clay again. Maybe one of them, but they'll need to be paired up with someone with more real-world experience."

"Real-life experience?" I made it a question.

"Ex-military, mere, ex-cop, professional bodyguard. Raphael recruits from some very hardcore places."

"Narcissus doesn't?" I asked.

Remus shrugged again. "He does now. He lost nearly three hundred men when Chimera took them over. They slaughtered them. Narcissus had a lot of muscle and athletes, but he didn't have many real fighters. One of the rea­sons that the werehyenas got taken over by such a small force was that they

weren't the real deal. Narcissus found out that martial arts training doesn't stand up to true warriors. War ain't an Olympic event; it's no place for am­ateurs."

"And you are not an amateur," Jean-Claude said in that pleasant, empty voice.

"No, sir," Remus said, "I am not."

25

I WENT TO the bathroom for a few minutes and came back out to find that Jean-Claude wasn't the only vampire in the bedroom. Elinore stood near the bed. She was dressed in a white gown with a high lacy collar and a cream robe that managed to look graceful, and not like jammies at all. Her long blond hair fell in a pale wave around her body, like a second robe, so long. She was a vision in pale delicate colors, then she looked at me. Her eyes were a pale icy blue, the wrong color of blue for that delicate face. Her face was a near-perfect oval, dainty and unreal, as if someone had carved her from some white, pure rock, and breathed life into her. Unless she worked at it, hers was a cold beauty. If her eyes had been a brighter blue, I think it would have made her look warmer. The eyes gave the lie to the rest of her. The eyes were serious, careful, watchful. Hidden under all those clothes was a round, curvy body, soft. She didn't believe in weight lifting, too unlady­like. But she had a body that was as lovely and desirable as the face, if a little soft for my tastes. She had the blond Nordic beauty that I'd craved as a child. Craved so I'd fit in with my blond, blue-eyed father and his new family.

I'd tried to hate her, just on principle. I'd failed, why? Under that lady­like exterior she was tough, fair, and harder than a box of nails. She just hid it much better than I did. We got along. Besides, all the male vamps were prettier than me, why shouldn't some of the female vamps be pret­tier, too?

"Elinore," I said, "what ..." I checked my wristwatch. "What are you doing awake before noon?"

"That is what I was asking Jean-Claude," she said in that silky voice that matched all the lace and cream satin.

Jean-Claude looked at me from where he sat on the edge of the bed. He was in his black brocade robe with all the fur on it. They looked like oppo­site ends of a dream; one so pale, the other so dark.

"All our people have gained from what we did last night, ma petite? He

motioned toward Elmore. "This is proof of just how much they may have gained."

I started walking around the end of the bed toward them. "Is this the ear­liest you've woken as a vampire?"

She nodded.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

She seemed to take the question seriously. She screwed that pretty little face up in a look of concentration. I was never sure if Elinore really had that many cute mannerisms or whether she'd spent so many centuries using them as camouflage that she couldn't get rid of them now. Whatever, she was al­ways doing things that made me think, little girl, doll-like, cute. Until she de­cided not to be cute; then she was positively frightening. I wondered how many enemies had been lured in by that softness only to find the steel dag­ger inside all that silk. If I'd been willing to play to my packaging, I might have pulled it off, but it just wasn't in me to try.

"I feel fine," she said at last.

"Have you fed?" I asked.

"Can you not tell?" she asked, giving me a very direct blue gaze.

"You always look a little ethereal to me, so no. I can't tell with you."

She gave a small smile. "Quite a compliment that the Executioner cannot tell whether I've fed."

"Do you feel the thirst?" Jean-Claude asked.

She thought about that for a second, making the pretty little face. "No. I could feed, but I do not have to."

I felt a stab of triumph from Jean-Claude. Triumph, and right on its heels, fear. Then he closed the leak in his shields tight.

"Why afraid? Why triumphant? Why both?" I asked.