His comment made me glance at Remus and another new werehyena sit­ting near the fireplace. "It's nothing personal, Requiem, but I've been visited by Belle and Marmee Noir. The cross helps keep them at bay."

"They are terrible powers."

"Yeah." I rummaged in the overnight bag until I came up with my cell phone, then headed for the bathroom.

"You can talk in front of me, Anita. I will not bear tales."

"You're blood-oathed to Jean-Claude. You'll talk if he wants you to, but frankly, I just want some privacy. Again, nodiing personal, Requiem." I sighed, because this kind of shit was one of the reasons I'd been able to keep turning him down as pomme de sang. He was messy, or at least not neat, and I didn't need more emotionally messy men in my life. "Look, this isn't going to work between us if you take everything so damned personally. Fuck bud­dies don't fret this much, okay."

His face had closed down to that handsome blankness. "Okay," he said, and that one empty word let me know his feelings were hurt. Shit, I did not need this.

I closed the bathroom door, and used my cell phone to call my gynecolo­gist. I'd finally realized that a little piece of plastic wasn't quite good enough. It was ninety-nine percent accurate; for this, I wanted a hundred percent. It took me nearly five minutes to convince the receptionist that I needed to talk to a nurse, or the doctor. The doctor, of course, was with a patient, but five minutes on hold snagged me a nurse.

"What seems to be the problem?" she asked in a voice that was part cheerful and part impatient.

"How accurate are those home pregnancy tests? I mean I know what the box says, but really, how good are they?"

"Very good, very accurate." Her voice had softened a little.

I swallowed hard enough that she probably heard me. "So if one comes back positive, then ..."

"Then congratulations," she said.

"But it's not a hundred percent, right?"

"No, but a false positive is very rare, Ms. Blake, very rare."

"Isn't there like a blood test that's a hundred percent accurate?"

"There is a blood test, yes, but normally the doctors trust the home tests, too."

"But if I wanted to schedule a blood test, to be absolutely sure, then I could?"

"Well, yes."

"Today."

"Ms. Blake, if you're that worried, take a second home pregnancy test, but I doubt that the second test will give you a different answer. False negatives, those we see, but false postives are very rare."

"How rare?" I asked.

I heard paper rustling. "When was the date of your last period?"

"First week of September."

"Do you have the exact date?"

"No, I don't." I fought not to sound angry. Who the hell kept track to the day of their period?

"Ms. Blake, Anita, I think we need to schedule you a prenatal visit."

"Prenatal, no, I mean, yes, I mean, oh, hell."

"Anita, I talk to a lot of women. Most of them are happy about the news, but not all of them. You don't sound like this was good news to you."

"It wasn't."

"Dr. North is just coming out, I'll let you talk to him." Silence, then the sounds of movement, cloth rustling, and a man's voice. "Hey, Anita, how's my favorite vampire hunter doing?"

"Not so good today," I said, and my voice sounded small, and hurt.

"I'm sorry about tliat. We need to schedule you an appointment."

"I don't want to be pregnant."

He was quiet for a moment. "You're not very far along, Anita; you still have options."

"Abortion, you mean?"

"Yes."

"I can't, not unless there's something majorly wrong. I mean, I'll need to be tested for Vlad's syndrome, and Mowgli syndrome."

"I figured the Vlad's syndrome test, but you only need the Mowgli test if you've had sex with a shapeshifter while he's in animal form."

I put my forehead against the cool marble tiles of the wall, and said, "I know that."

"Oh," he said in that overly cheerful way, the way people say it when what they really want to say is OH MY GOD.' He recovered quickly; he was, after all, a doctor. "Peggy, I'm going take this in my office, transfer it, please. Hang on a minute, Anita, let's get some privacy." I listened to a mercifully short amount of Muzak, then the phone picked up, and he said, "Okay, Anita, we'll need you to come in as soon as possible." I heard paper rippling. "We had a cancellation at two o'clock this afternoon."

"I don't know if I can make it."

"If tJiis were just a regular prenatal visit, Anita, I'd say fine, do it next week, but if we're testing for botli of the syndromes, and you're telling me there's a chance, especially for Mowgli syndrome, then we need to do the blood work now."

I wanted to say I'd only had sex witri one lycanthrope in animal form, just

one time, but as they say, once is all it takes. "Doc, I've read up on Vlad's syndrome. I don't know as much about the other. I mean, if I really am preg­nant, then it's just this little bunch of cells, right? I mean, I'd be at best two months along, right? There's no chance of the baby trying to eat its way out until it's bigger, right?" Just saying that made my stomach tight. There might be no option of keeping anything.

"Humans have a pretty long gestation period for a mammal. I am assum­ing mammalian shapeshifter, here?"

"Yes. Does that make a difference?"

"It can. You see, the problem with Mowgli syndrome is that sometimes the fetus grows at the rate of the animal, and not the human."

I flipped back through every biology class I'd ever had, and nowhere had I ever learned the gestation period of a leopard. It just hadn't been covered.

"Anita, talk to me, Anita."

"I'm here, doc, I just... I know if it's Vlad's syndrome that I have to abort. The baby won't live anyway, and will try to take me with it. But like I said, I'm not as clear on the other syndrome. It's a lot more rare."

"Very rare, in fact less than ten cases reported in this country. If the worst happens and it's Vlad's syndrome, then we have time to fix it. If it's Mowgli syndrome, depends on the animal." I heard computer keys clacking. "Do you know what type of shapeshifter he was?"

"It was only once, and yeah—" I stopped defending myself, and just said, "... leopard, okay, leopard." Sweet Jesus, I couldn't believe I was having this conversation.

I heard the computer keys again. "Leopard is between ninety and a hun­dred and six days, an average of around ninety-six days."

"So?" I said.

"A human's gestation is two hundred and eighty days."

"Still, so what?"

"So this: I'll assume you don't have severe Mowgli syndrome, or you'd know it by now. You'd be almost ready to deliver."

"You're joking," I said.

"No," he said, "but you don't have that, obviously. You could still have a less severe version of Mowgli syndrome. If you do, then the pregnancy could kick into high gear, and you could go from being barely pregnant to being ready to deliver, in a matter of days."

"You're joking."

"I'm looking at the medical literature as we speak. The Internet is a won­derful tool sometimes. Two cases in this country of women who had milder forms of Mowgli syndrome. Even with the test, Anita, all we can tell you is

yes or no. Think of it like Down syndrome; we can test and know if you have it, but even an amnio wouldn't tell you the severity of it."

"Vlad's syndrome is an automatic abortion—what about Mowgli syn­drome?" I asked.

He hesitated, then said, slowly, "Not automatic, no, but the birth defects can be pretty, um, severe."

"It's never good when your doctor sounds nervous, Dr. North. What am I missing that's put that tone in your voice?"

"If you have even a mild form of Mowgli syndrome, then by Monday the fetus could come up on an ultrasound as over the age limit for abortion in this state. You really do not want to be out of options on this particular birth defect, Anita."