Nothing more than sheer, pigheaded enthusiasm was carrying me along at this point. Show business, baby. Matt counted down, and the music cued up.

"Good night, everyone, and welcome to The Midnight Hour. It's vampires again tonight. It might sound like I've been doing a lot of shows on vampires lately, but that's just the way it goes. There seem to be a lot of them around at the moment. This time it's vampire politics. Like any other community, they have their leaders, their followers, their structures, their organizations—and their problems. Here to help us talk about vampires' wily ways and notions is a very special guest: Denver's own Master vampire, Ricardo."

This was going to piss a lot of people off. Kind of like kicking a wasp's nest.

"Hi, Ricardo, how are you this fine evening?"

"I'm just wonderful," he said, gritting his teeth but managing to sound honest. The microphone would hear honest, at least. "It's an honor to be on your show."

"Thank you, that's great to hear," I said. "I was starting to think most vampires put up with me because they think I'm cute and harmless."

"Oh, I wouldn't accuse you of that."

"Wait—which one?" He just smiled. "Right, moving on. Tonight I'd like to delve into some of the secrets, the hows and whys. The questions that never see the light of day, so to speak. But first, do you think you'll get in trouble for answering such questions? For breaking the code of secrecy?"

"Oh, probably. One thing or another will get me in trouble."

"So being a vampire is dangerous stuff."

"Yes. Usually. People assume immortality comes with vampirism. But you'd be surprised how much work the immortality takes. The old vampires are dangerous because they know what it takes to survive."

"Take note of that all you wannabes out there. So, Ricardo—how did you become the Master of Denver?"

"Finesse," he said, his face perfectly straight. "Sometimes it's just a matter of walking in and saying, 'Here I am.' "

Oh my God, I loved it. "Is that how such transitions usually take place?"

"Usually they're quite violent. Vampires are territorial. Taking another vampire's territory isn't something to be done lightly. But I firmly believe this territory is better off in my hands than my predecessor's."

This sounded like a political campaign, which was exactly the right description, I supposed. Except the tactics threatened to get much more vicious.

"Better off? How?"

"Safer."

"For vampires—"

"For everyone."

"Wait a minute, I may not know much, but I know vampires keep to themselves. Most of the fine citizens of Denver have never interacted with a vampire and wouldn't know one if they met one. How does a city's Master vampire keep the city safe for everyone?" I knew the answer; this was for the benefit of my listeners.

"Because when a Master vampire can't control his followers, the rest of the city's vampires, then no one is safe from them. They will hunt indiscriminately, uncontrolled. They'll kill. Most people never notice vampires because they're kept in check. They don't kill for blood. When that control is gone…" He left the statement hanging ominously. "It's the same with werewolves, you know that."

The system—alphas commanding their packs, Masters controlling the vampires—had been handed down for centuries. Most of our kinds knew they had to stay hidden to survive, to avoid the mob with torches and pitchforks scenario. Occasionally, though, we had rogues who lacked common sense. We had to police ourselves. The system was archaic, born in the days of monarchs and empires. It showed, even in someone relatively down to earth like Rick.

"I do, and we'll maybe get to that later in the show. But here's a question for you: Do you think maybe the system is outdated?" That caught him off guard. He narrowed his gaze at me. I said, "I don't expect you to tell me your age—I haven't yet gotten a vampire to admit his age—but tell me this: were you born in a country with a king? An absolute monarch, in the days when that actually meant something more than getting chased by paparazzi."

Cautiously, he said, "Yes."

I filled in a few holes. He'd been born in Europe, at least a couple hundred years ago. With a name like Ricardo, that probably meant Spain. Lots of holes remained, like when he'd become a vampire, when he'd come to America, and—the eternal question—how old was he really?

"Then does Denver even need a Master, or do you think the system is outdated?" I honestly wanted to know, and I had no idea what he was going to say.

"I thought you were supposed to be making me look good."

"I decided to go for heavy-hitting philosophy instead."

He took what I threw at him in stride, with a narrow gaze and nary a beat missed. "I think we already answered that question. You've met some of the vampires in question, and I don't think you'd really want them to have free run of the city."

It was hard to tell the difference from my end. They all seemed arrogant and selfish. They all wanted you to know they could own you if they chose to, if they didn't have someone like Arturo holding them back.

"You've got a point," I said.

Rick continued. "The system isn't absolute. The Master isn't an absolute monarch. The relationship works both ways—it's based on a more ancient, feudal form than anything most modern people are used to dealing with. Vampires put themselves under control of a Master. In return, the Master owes them protection. And if a Master can no longer provide his followers that safety—that's when the system falls apart."

"And you're saying Denver's old Master couldn't provide that protection for his followers."

"Yes, I am."

"Let's open the line for calls now and see what other secrets we can pry from Ricardo. Hello, Amanda, you're on the air."

"Hi, Kitty, thanks for taking my call!"

"No problem."

"And Ricardo, oh, my God, this is such an honor." I'd warned Rick about the hero worship. Even after all these calls, it was a bit perplexing.

"What's your question, Amanda?" I said.

"Ricardo—are you, like, hot?"

Rick blinked and looked at me with an expression that said help? I just grinned. I was the master here, and I had absolute power. I wanted to see him sweat it out. Do vampires sweat? Why didn't anyone ever ask if vampires sweat?

"Would you mind explaining the question a bit more?" Rick said, very diplomatically. I applauded him silently.

"I've seen all these movies and stuff, and the vampires in them, they're just so good-looking. So I just wondered if it was like that in real life. Are all Master vampires totally irresistibly good-looking?"

At last, Rick was smiling. He might even have been blushing a little. "I'm afraid I don't feel qualified to, ah, pass comment on my own appearance. Kitty—you want to offer an opinion?"

"He's not bad. He's got a little of that tall-dark-handsome thing going."

“Thank you. Too kind," he said, with plenty of sarcasm.

"Just keep in mind, Amanda, what vampires really want is your blood, and the way a lot of them get that is by looking as attractive as they possibly can. They use hotness as a lure. They're like those deep-sea fish with the tentacle lights."

Rick raised an eyebrow at me and mouthed the words tentacle lights?

"Anyway, moving on, next call please—"

And so it went. I had to shove the plan to the back of my mind and concentrate on the show. I wanted every show to be the best it possibly could, and having Rick on was something I'd wanted to do right from the start. That part of it, I enjoyed immensely.

After the first hour, I started to worry, because I'd expected a reaction by now. I had my cell phone ready. Dack was keeping watch at my parents' house, Ben at my mom's hospital room, and Charlie and Violet were watching Cheryl's place. They had instructions to call 911 if anything was about to go down. This was an emergency, wasn't it? I figured a bunch of wailing sirens would at least make the bad guys pause. That was all we needed—a pause during which we could evacuate.