“For fear that we’ll do exactly what you’re planning to do,” Richard said.

Jean-Claude nodded again.

“It’ll be a race to see if they can conquer us or kill us before we have enough power,” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“The other Masters of the City aren’t going to want to give up their power to you,” I said. “If they haven’t felt the council’s power they won’t believe you. They’ll think it’s just an excuse to take their power.

“Exactement,” he said.

“Some of them will fight rather than give you their power,” Richard said.

“Some.”

“Are we about to start a vampire civil war here?” I asked.

“Non, ma petite, between us and our allies they will not be able to mount such a strong defense, nor will they band together. Most will live, or die, in their own territories.”

“Are you planning to force them to give up power, even if they refuse?”

“To keep Morte d’Amour and the Mother of All Darkness from raping this country, oh yes.”

“This will make you the bad guy,” Richard said.

“I am aware of that.”

“Are you planning on us metaphysically raping the reluctant masters?”

“If necessary.”

“Isn’t that exactly what we’re fighting to keep the council from doing?” Richard asked.

“Yes, but we are not doing it for evil purposes.”

“So they just have to trust that we mean well,” Richard said.

“No,” Jean-Claude said, “they just have to do what I tell them to do.”

“If you do evil for a good reason, it doesn’t become good,” I said.

“Do you want Marmee Noir to possess other masters in this country?”

“You know I don’t.”

“Then one man’s evil becomes another’s necessity, ma petite. We must be as ruthless as ever you have been, and as persuasive as ever I have been.”

“What am I supposed to be?” Richard asked.

“Be honest with yourself and with us; help us not become the monsters that the other American masters will fear we have already become.”

Richard held out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation Jean-Claude took it. I laid my hand on top of theirs, and all I could think was, Is this how revolutions begin? Not with a proclamation or a riot, but with a few people in a room somewhere with their hands clasped and a purpose. We were trying to save our country. I was betting the other Masters of the City wouldn’t believe we were saving anything but ourselves, and patriot wouldn’t be what they called us. No, motherfucking bastards, more like.

19

THE GUEST BATHROOMS were all very white and modern and stark, but I stood in the white tiled shower and didn’t care. The water was hot and felt both good and bad. Good because the hot water helped beat out the stiffness from lying on the cold stones for hours, bad in that the water found every ache and bruise. The bite marks were the only visible wounds, but from the feel of things I’d be bruised eventually. Or maybe I wouldn’t be. Maybe the rapid healing would keep most of the bruising down just like the vampire bites did. Bruises are just blood capillaries bursting under the skin, so did I bruise as badly as I had before all the vampire marks? I stood under the rain of hot water and couldn’t remember.

For some reason that bothered me, not being able to remember whether I’d bruised more before. Stupid, but true. I felt power glide over my skin. The water was suddenly too hot. I turned it down so that it ran cold. The heat wasn’t in the water, it was from the power. I knew the taste of it—Haven. My lioness gazed up at me, and I had a moment to watch her raise her muzzle from a pool where she was drinking. It was as if putting my human body in water made me visualize my lioness in water, too. The weird double vision made me put my hand out. I touched the cool, smooth tile, and it helped steady me. I was here in a shower. I was human. I wasn’t a lion drinking at some pool in the middle of some hot, baked grassland. Shit. It was almost as if the lion’s world was more real than it had been, and that wasn’t Haven’s doing, that was the lions and the healing we’d done with them. Something about it had made my lioness more “real.”

She growled low in her chest. We didn’t like him as much as we had before. But liking him and wanting him weren’t the same thing. His power trailed like a warm hand over my bare skin, and all the cold showers in the world weren’t going to make his power anything but amazing. Almost any other man in my life would have knocked, but I heard the doorknob turn. He’d just tried to walk in on me, but I’d locked the door. Old habits die hard.

He called from the other side, “Anita, it’s Haven, unlock the door.”

One of the reasons I was in the shower by myself was that once Nathaniel, Damian, and Micah woke up I didn’t know who to shower with, so in some weird attempt at being fair I’d gone off by myself. Now that seemed like less of a good idea. I hadn’t thought Haven would have woken this soon. After feeling his power last night I should have. Fuck.

“Anita, open the door.”

“I just need to rinse my hair out and I’ll be done. Give me a minute and you can have the shower.”

“We can share the shower,” he said.

I knew that was a bad idea. I finished my hair in record time and turned off the water. The silence seemed louder than it should have. I grabbed one of the soft, white towels and wrapped it around my hair. I started drying my body with another towel. I really wanted to get dressed, and I was really kicking myself that I’d given up so easily on finding my weapons in the living room, but it was a mess. So many of us had been armed that there were holsters and weapons scattered among the passed-out bodies like mercenary prizes in a fleshy Cracker Jack box.

The door rattled as if he’d leaned against it. “I guess you don’t want to share the shower,” he said.

“Not really,” I said. I was dry enough. I reached for the clothes I’d left folded on the side of the sink, and cursed myself for getting clothes but not any backup weapons. Was I afraid of Haven? Not exactly, but I was smaller and not as strong. There was a difference between being afraid and being cautious. Or that’s what I told myself as I scooted my still damp skin into underwear and jeans.

Auggie’s warning was in my head. I needed to make Haven my lion. I needed to make him mine the way that Micah was mine, but would that make him behave? Was it my “magic” that made Micah so cooperative, or was it just Micah? I couldn’t imagine Haven being as reasonable as my Nimir-Raj. Micah made everything better, easier. Haven did just the opposite. His being tied to me tighter metaphysically wouldn’t change that. I could bind him to me like I had Nicky, and then he’d be mine in a way that wouldn’t let him misbehave. But I believed what I’d done to Nicky was evil.

Haven saw himself as my king, but I already had a king in my life. He might have outweighed Micah by a hundred pounds, and in a fist fight he’d have won, but sometimes winning the girl isn’t about fighting.

I thought about what he’d done to Noel and Travis. I thought about what he’d tried to do to Nathaniel and Micah that one morning after he’d slept over at my house, on one of the last nights we’d all stayed there. I thought about the fact that when I cut him last night I had tried for a kill. I’d made the decision that he was too dangerous to try to wound. It seemed like I shouldn’t be sleeping with him if I really believed that. But sex was the only way I could control him. It was my only ace in this metaphysical power game. Fuck, or rather, not.

“If I wanted inside I could just break the door down,” he said.

I slipped on my bra, turning it backward to fasten the hooks, twisting it back to slip my arms through the straps. “Yeah, me, too. They’re interior doors. They’re not meant to withstand that much force.”