In the Blink of an Eye

STARCROSSED 4: IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE by Reno MacLeod and Jaye Valentine This copyrighted book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any existing or future means without written permission from the authors. Contact information is available at http://macleodvalentine.com. This book is an original work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are solely the product of the authors' imaginations and/or are used fictitiously, although reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, or to actual situations or events is entirely coincidental. All sexually active fictional characters portrayed are 18 years of age or older. This book is intended for an adult audience. Cover Design and Artwork by: Reno MacLeod StarCrossed 4: In the Blink of an Eye © 2010 Reno MacLeod & Jaye Valentine ISBN-13: 978-1-4524-8117-3 Published by M&V Tailz at Smashwords.com All rights reserved. Previous books in this series can be purchased from AllRomanceEbooks.com, OmniLit.com, the Kindle Store at Amazon.com, and other online retailers. StarCrossed 1: Demon Tailz StarCrossed 2: Opposite Ends of the Spectrum StarCrossed 2 ½: Sangria and Seraphim StarCrossed 3: Objects in the Mirror StarCrossed 3 ½: Angel Tears

STARCROSSED 4: IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE by Reno MacLeod & Jaye Valentine Part I — Now Chapter One Present Day . . . Vampires sleep to kill time, nothing more, and sleeping vampires have no dreams. Precognitive visions sneak in, mostly of inconsequential things: a flat tire, a busted water

heater flooding the cellar, guests dripping blood on the carpet, the children frolicking through the house and breaking a vase. Things that could be fixed, restored, or replaced. But there were exceptions. Visions, clear and terrifying images of broken things, bleeding things, missing things. Things that couldn't be fixed or restored or replaced. Gennady scrubbed a hand down his face, thankful his heart couldn't race and he couldn't break into a cold sweat. Stilling his mind, he looked at the peacefully sleeping pile of soft, black fur curled up in a ball next to him. He vowed not to let Fallon out of his sight until the feeling of dread passed. He couldn't go back to sleep, and soon the stainless steel blinds would creep up their tracks and uncover all the windows in the house. With night ready to pounce, the Zaitsev residence would come to life. Brightly lit. Happy, warm, and safe. Once at his desk, Gennady leaned back in his chair, looked toward the antique bed and the snoozing ball of fur. Despite his rough day and the frightful vision, a pleased smile curved his lips. Fallon looked no less than precious when he slept: the twitching tail, the wrinkling velvet nose, the soft whimpers and excited little yips directed at some unseen playmate. Gennady's smile fell, replaced by a fang needling at his bottom lip with worry. Fallon awoke. Smoky blue-gray eyes opened after multiple blinks and settled on Gennady, Fallon's bushy black, white-tipped tail thumping happily on the bed. Gennady forced a small smile. "Good morning, sleepyhead." Fallon yawned, let out a loud whine and stood, stretching from toes to tail. He leaped off the bed, but before his front paws touched the rug they'd become hands, and a nude young man stalked forward on all fours and shoved his head into Gennady's lap. "How long have you been watching me?" Fallon nuzzled against Gennady's hand. "A little while." Gennady ran his fingers along the slope of Fallon's jaw. "I enjoy watching you sleep." "You could have woken me. I would've kept you company." Fallon turned his head enough for Gennady's fingers to sink into thick, black hair. "And I would've let you feed. Your skin is so cold tonight!" Gennady scratched behind Fallon's ears. The horrible day's sleep faded away, the

memory of the vision vanishing with one look from those gorgeous eyes. Gennady twirled his fingers through sleek, shiny hair, and he gave the long locks a gentle but encouraging tug. "You could climb onto my lap and be my breakfast." A low, lustful sound rumbled from Fallon, and Gennady suddenly had a lapful of werefox. Chest to chest, Fallon nuzzled along Gennady's neck and nipped before baring his in offer. He gripped Gennady's waist, his fingers caressing the silky black material of Gennady's favorite sleep pants. "Drink enough so you can fuck me. I'm so damn horny this morning!" "Oh, really?" Gennady lifted his hips to grind his pelvis against Fallon, slippery silk sliding over Fallon's bare ass. "You're in quite a mood." Gennady ran his nose along Fallon's long neck, sniffing at the blood gurgling under the surface of soft, white skin. "Were you dreaming about me?" Fallon inhaled a sharp breath, his fingernails biting into Gennady's hips. "I dreamed I was being chased by something. As I was about to be caught, you snatched me away." Fallon arched his back. "I need this as much as you do tonight." Gennady felt the hard cock jutting against his belly, could hear Fallon's heart beating strong and fast. A small moan escaped him as he bit Fallon's throat, his fangs sinking deep into the perfect spot midway between the jugular vein and left carotid artery. He formed a vacuum with his lips on smooth skin and sucked hard, not wasting a drop. The blood tasted sweet, richer and thicker than human blood, and the life-fluid filled Gennady's emptiness in no time. He swallowed with a slow, even rhythm, satisfying his hunger, fulfilling his craving for intimate contact. His face tingled and he knew his cheeks were pinking, and his hands felt measurably warmer as he gripped and fondled Fallon's sweet ass. Gennady's cock came to life, straining against silk while he thrust against Fallon's body. Fallon gyrated his ass and rubbed almost violently, as if trying to satisfy an intensifying itch. Soft moans and gentle cries mixed together as he rocked against Gennady's cock. Gennady slowed his drinking, and Fallon ground down harder and tugged at the waistband of the silk pants. Gennady growled, his fangs exiting Fallon's neck along the precise path they'd entered, leaving perfect punctures that would heal fast and without scarring. He lifted his ass off the chair and let Fallon yank his pajamas to his knees. His cock sprung to the ready, hard and heavy, hot

with Fallon's own blood. Gennady licked his lips, drew the last remaining drops of blood into his mouth with the tip of his tongue. He grasped Fallon's erection in a tight-fisted grip and stroked. "Tell me what you need. I want to hear you say it." Fallon bucked his hips, pushing his long, hard cock through Gennady's hand, moaning. "I want you to let me suck your cock." His eyes twinkled. "And then I want you to bend me over your desk and fill me with this." Gennady's cock twitched and flexed in Fallon's hand, and he squeezed Fallon's cock in return, working his fist from base to tip to draw out the clear, sticky fluid. After a quick smearing of pre-cum to the head of Fallon's cock, Gennady lifted his hand to his mouth to lick the juices away, putting more pure Fallon in his belly. He placed his hands on Fallon's shoulders with insistent, downward pressure. "On your knees." Obedient, Fallon slid down Gennady's body to kneel between parted thighs. He encircled Gennady's cock with long, nimble fingers and gave several gratuitous tugs. "You're breathing." Fallon cocked an eyebrow, teasing. "I love when I make you forget yourself." He slipped the crown of Gennady's cock past his lips into the warmth of his mouth. Fingernails digging half-moon shapes into the leather armrests of his chair, Gennady moaned freely. His knees fell wide, his spine curving inward as he tried to sink in deeper. "Your mouth is so good. Warm and soft and tight." Fallon demonstrated his adoration with every long suck and pull he took on Gennady's erection. He eased back, rose from the floor, and draped face down over the edge of the heavy wooden desk. "Here's something else warm and soft and tight." "I'll have to let you sleep in more often, if you're going to awaken like this." Gennady pressed Fallon's sharp hip bones against the edge of the desk. He ran a fingernail along the valley of Fallon's spine to the crack of his ass. Instantly, Fallon reared his ass up in response, his fluffy tail flopping to one side. He wriggled as he stood on tiptoe. "If not for my needing to eat, we could lock the bedroom door and never leave." "That's what servants are for." Gennady ran his dry tongue down Fallon's back, tracing the same path as his finger. He skimmed a hand over the length of Fallon's furry tail and took a sharp nip at each ass cheek. "You can eat room service; I can eat you." "Gennady!" Fallon panted, slender yet strong legs splayed apart, his cock rubbing against

the desk amid a continuous stream of excited whimpers. "Such a tease." "I never tease." Gennady chuckled and opened a desk drawer. He slid his other hand to the front of Fallon's body and lightly caressed the hard length of Fallon's erection. He found what he sought in the drawer without looking—Gennady was nothing if not organized. He popped the cap on a bottle of lube and drizzled some along the cleft of his lover's gorgeous little ass. Fallon jerked and pushed his dick through Gennady's waiting fingers. Gennady slid his cock between Fallon's cheeks and rolled his hips. He circled the head of Fallon's dick with his thumb, tracing the ridges and curves. "I love when you squirm like this for me." "Need you, Gennady." Fallon moaned. "I'll squirm even more with you inside me." "Arch your back; get that lovely ass in the air for me." Gennady made a purring sound, the head of his cock bumping over Fallon's little hole, and he applied a bit of pressure. Fallon pushed back, the muscles in his ass and thighs taut and tight. Gennady slipped inside, and Fallon's slick, warm walls clenched around him. He moaned in Fallon's ear, drew his fist down Fallon's cock, one body melding into the other. "So good," Gennady said, his voice dark and throaty. "Let me feel what you can do with your beautiful ass." Fallon stretched his body, and the action naturally tightened his inner muscles around Gennady's cock. Drawing his arms underneath him, Fallon hoisted off the desk. His unbound hair hung like a black curtain, hiding his face but unable to muffle his grunts and moans. The new position gave him leverage to draw off Gennady's cock before slamming back in time with Gennady's forward thrusts. "Can never get you deep enough. I want you part of me the way I am with you when you drink from me." Gennady drew his arms around Fallon's midsection, and he sank into him slow and deep. He relaxed his upper body against Fallon's back. Rigid coils of powerful muscles under Fallon's smooth, supple skin belied the werefox's lithe appearance. Gennady rested his chin on Fallon's shoulder, his hips rocking languidly in a lazy, serene fuck. "You're always a part of me, my little kit," Gennady whispered against perfect, fair skin. "Always." The tension throughout Fallon's body eased, and when the couple found a perfect rhythm, Fallon craned his neck and peppered Gennady's face with loving kisses. Heat built between them. Fallon's skin became slick with sweat. "Always part of you. Fuck!"

Skimming his hands over Fallon's flat belly, Gennady caressed Fallon's cock. Light, easy strokes, and he grazed firm balls as they drew up high and hard. "Come for me. I want to feel you spill on my hands. Love you so much!" Gennady bucked his hips upward; his cock thickened and fluttered inside Fallon as a dry, twitching orgasm seized him. Fallon's release was anything but dry, and he froze beneath Gennady, one pulse of thick slick after another coating Gennady's fingers. Afterward, Fallon dropped down to the desk, weak and seemingly boneless. Once his breathing became manageable and he reclaimed use of his tongue, Fallon laughed. "I don't think I can move." Gennady slid wet fingers up Fallon's narrow hips and left a sticky trail. He placed a sweet, tender kiss on Fallon's shoulder. "So . . . how do you like the room service?" "Quite satisfying." Fallon grinned. He lifted his rear end to Gennady's groin and gave a little wiggle. "But I might need to order dessert after I recover."

Chapter Two The week leading up to the Fourth of July had been a mixed bag of nasty weather, ranging from just plain wet and dreary to tumultuous thunderstorms. But on the evening of the fireworks, Mother Nature cooperated. The clouds sneaked off past the horizon late in the afternoon, and a strong breeze blew to carry away smoke and the smell of sulfur. Jace Barton leaned back into the lime green cushions of the old Victorian porch swing and ran his hands over his brother's feet propped on his lap. He and Konnor had spent a lazy day at home enjoying the heat of the day. They'd both worked at their bar, Tailz, especially late the night before so they could spend this evening together with family. Jace checked his watch. "Fallon and Gennady are going to miss the fireworks if they don't hurry. They only have about five minutes." "I'm sure they won't miss the show." Konnor stretched and flexed his feet as Jace massaged them, and he breathed out a contented sigh. "Fallon has been jumping out of his fur all day waiting for this. He's probably dragging Father down the stairs as we speak." Konnor closed his eyes and moaned, his head dropping back on a pillow. He wiggled his toes under Jace's

massaging. "Feels good." Jace made a wry grin. "I've never seen anyone so jazzed about witnessing something that scares him so damn much. I think our beloved little werefox is riding the short bus sometimes." "Did they start yet?" Right on cue, Fallon burst through the door. He clutched two bags of microwave popcorn in one hand and dragged Gennady along behind him with the other. Plopping down on the railing of the porch, he tossed Konnor one of the warm bags. Jace chuckled at Gennady's T-shirt choice for the evening. White, glittery letters on a black shirt stated: REAL VAMPIRES DON'T SPARKLE! "Should be starting any minute now." Konnor tore open the popcorn and took a handful. "Where have you guys been? We were beginning to think you weren't coming." "Sorry, children." Gennady smiled at his adopted twin demons, kicked off his flip-flops, and piled into one of the big garden chairs. "We were otherwise engaged. I apologize for keeping you waiting." "Translation: you were upstairs doing the horizontal bop." Jace snorted a quick laugh. Fallon crunched a mouthful of popcorn extra loud and glared at Jace. Konnor blushed, pointed one foot, and poked Jace hard in the stomach. He opened his mouth to speak, but interruption came in the form of a booming noise and eruptions of red, white, and blue lights high in the night sky. Fallon squealed, dropped his popcorn, and slapped both hands over his ears. Eyes and mouth wide, he looked up and oozed off the railing to back his way closer to Gennady. He managed to grab his popcorn bag along the way. "Oh! So bright!" Gennady grabbed Fallon by denim belt loops and pulled him into his lap. He put his arms around Fallon's waist, pulling him close against his chest. He propped his chin on Fallon's shoulder and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Fallon settled back against Gennady. A series of whooshes heralded more explosions and Fallon sucked in his breath. He managed not to flinch too badly as the sky lit up with bursts of gold and purple. Despite his teasing, Jace couldn't help but smile. Hard to believe only a few months ago this familiar tranquility had been threatened by the Barton twins' past. Family and friends had pulled together to save Jace, and since then he'd barely left Konnor's side. The summoning by John and Matthew Banks from the South Dakota cult where Jace and Konnor were raised had

been a terrible reminder. Although the town of Salem accepted the supernaturals, there would always be external dangers to face. Konnor slipped his legs around Jace's waist and pulled him against his chest tobogganstyle. Peering around Jace, Konnor looked in Gennady's direction. He waited until a loud clap of fireworks stopped echoing through the neighborhood before he spoke. "Father, why isn't Jericho here? He never misses holidays." Smiling warmly at the twins, Gennady drew his arms tighter around Fallon's trim waist, his festive expression marginally caving. "Jericho's been back in town for enough time that he's again considered a resident. He has to re-register with the authorities tomorrow, so I think he needed something more exciting than a family picnic to keep his mind occupied." Gennady shrugged. "He left yesterday evening." "Probably a good idea," Jace said. "Not like he'd be able to sit still if he were here." Fallon twisted around to look at Gennady. "Is the process that horrible? I was so young, I don't remember registering." Gennady's face clouded with a disgusted expression. "Rather like being arrested, but you've not been accused of a damn thing except—" "—being different." Konnor took his brother's closest hand and laced their fingers together. "The whole thing stinks." "I had hoped we'd be well beyond this by now." Gennady rubbed his nose against Fallon's shoulder, as if scratching an itch. Jace realized from the rosy flush of cheeks that Gennady had fed before coming outside. As a result, Gennady resembled an all-you-can-eatbuffet for the local mosquito population. "Things are progressing slower than I envisioned." Fallon wriggled to sit sideways on Gennady's lap and wrapped his arms around him. Jace sighed. "We've come a long way, Father. But humans seem to have a hard time letting go of their superstitions and prejudices. All you have to do is pick up a history book to see how long they take to carry out the smallest social changes. Damn good thing most of us are more or less immortal and have the time to wait." "True." Gennady brushed Fallon's hair behind one ear and gave the exposed lobe a gentle nibble. "Would you go get everyone a beer from the 'fridge, please?" He gave Fallon a soft swat on the rump. "I can't celebrate Independence Day without beer and not feel unpatriotic."

"But I might miss something!" Fallon protested and ducked his head against Gennady's chest as rapid-fire explosions filled the air. Jace groaned and untangled from Konnor. "Stay put; I'll get the beer." "Oh! Jace?" Fallon grinned. "Can you bring my box of sparklers when you come back out?" Jace laughed. "Sure, kid." He disappeared into the house to a thunderous barrage. He made the trip quick, grabbing four bottles of Killian's and opening them before snatching the box of sparklers from the counter on his way out. Gennady took two beers as Jace passed by on his way back to Konnor. He handed one to Fallon and clinked the necks of their bottles together. Gennady smiled. "Happy Fourth of July!" "You know, you're going pay for that later," Jace told Gennady as he watched the vampire sip the beer. Gennady smiled. "Small price to pay for an occasional indulgence." Alongside, Fallon attempted to balance his bottle between his knees and open the small box of sparklers. Jace laughed, and after Fallon finally tore into the box, Jace tossed him a disposable lighter. Fallon lit five sparkler sticks then blew one out. "I wish Jericho was here." I'm sure wherever Jericho is, he's thinking about us. Not wanting to spoil the festive mood, Jace kept his sarcastic thought private.

Chapter Three The flight attendant on the private Boeing 747 methodically walked both aisles of the plane, sliding the window shades closed. They'd be hitting sunrise head on as the plane crossed the terminator into day once they hit the Moroccan coast en route to the Persian Gulf. Jericho Zaitsev had taken another gig with the pleasure broker. For a whopping price, the ridiculously wealthy could buy time with a supernatural to fulfill their wildest, darkest fantasies. Vampires were highest in demand, thanks to the glut of books and movies about them in recent

years. The appointments paid well, even by high-priced attorney standards, but Jericho wasn't involved solely for the money. He'd sworn the married couple he'd done in Salem months ago had been the last, but when his contact called with this offer, he couldn't resist. Top dollar, exciting, exotic, exceptionally risky. The risk element thrilled him most. ***** Michael Hayes smiled at Jericho from over the rim of a five hundred dollar glass of wine, the remainder in the bottle at the center of the table. The man hadn't seemed offended when Jericho waved off the sommelier. Jericho felt sure the CEO of Haydon Software hadn't flown him nearly seven thousand miles to the Burj Al Arab hotel in Dubai for the purpose of drinking expensive wine. "You're beautiful, Jericho. You don't mind if I call you by your first name, do you?" Michael ran the tip of his index finger along the rim of the crystal goblet. For a half a million dollars a night, you can call me Rumpelstiltskin. Jericho smiled, careful not to flash any fang. The table in the back of the exclusive restaurant appeared secluded but not entirely private. "Of course. Mr. Hayes." Michael took another sip of wine. "I must admit—when told your services were available, I was skeptical." Jericho had read the man's application thoroughly before accepting the gig. As a youth, Michael Hayes had been an average, pimple-faced, teenage geek running from basement to basement playing Vampire: The Masquerade with his friends. He made his first million by his nineteenth birthday designing video games, but he didn't kiss a woman until age twenty-three. He kissed his first man the following year and never turned back. Jericho represented all of Michael's hottest sexual fantasies brought to life. "The broker provided me with only basic information regarding your desires." Jericho drew tiny, idle circles in the white linen tablecloth with a fingertip. "Photograph. Location. Estimated duration of the visit." Jericho rested one elbow on the table and propped his chin on the back of his hand. "The rest is up to us to negotiate."

"Quite a risk for you." Michael leaned back and smiled as the waiter arrived with his meal: abalone soup, and lobster with white truffle butter. He watched an angelfish swim beside them in a massive, oval tank until the waiter finished serving and departed. "If I asked you to make me what you are, what would you say?" A specific skill Jericho had developed in his years as a criminal defense attorney proved handy for the occasion. Accustomed to dealing with the shocking and unexpected, he kept his expression even. He'd anticipated the lanky billionaire with the dark blond hair would want the basic Freak Night Special: hot sex with a vampire, getting bitten and bled a little, the usual treatment. But not this—not a request for turning. Siring a new vampire took time and considerable commitment. Rules and protocols needed to be followed, approvals had to be requested and granted. Hell to pay at the highest levels if they weren't. Jericho clasped his hands on the table. "Why do you ask?" Another skill courtesy of law school—always answer questions with a question until you're sure you have the upper hand. "Clever." Michael tasted his soup. "I've worked hard for my money, Jericho. I don't foresee the pitter-patter of little feet in my future. I rather fancy living a long time to enjoy my fortune rather than have the government gobble up the fruits of my labors. I can make this well worth your while." Crossing his arms casually over his chest, Jericho searched Michael's eyes. Gold-flecked hazel similar to Jericho's greeted his gaze with a familiar vacancy. Jericho's memories of his image reflected in a mirror had mostly faded, but he recognized those desperate eyes. Though seasoned by vampire standards, Jericho was by no means old. A stinging ache lingered in his heart from the day when all he cherished had been taken from him. Losing one's wealth to a natural death didn't seem as noble a turning excuse to Jericho as suffering a debilitating disease from birth and watching his entire family slaughtered by the Bolsheviks. "I don't need your money, Mr. Hayes, and this isn't a novel or a movie. Reality bears little resemblance to fiction in this case." Jericho reached toward the bottle of wine and the upsidedown, unused glass on the carousel in the middle of the table. "May I?" Hayes gestured permission. "By all means." Jericho poured a glass of wine and returned the bottle. He locked his eyes on Michael's as he swirled the wine in the glass and waved the fragrance under his nose. He inhaled the aroma

and moaned a wistful sound. The wine smelled wonderful to him, but he despised the consequences of partaking. He took a small sip, his eyes fluttering closed as the grapes and apples and the slightest tease of oak burst on his taste buds. He ran his tongue across his lips to catch any wayward drops. He took a heartier swallow then set the glass down. Leaning across the table, he plucked a piece of lobster meat off Michael's plate. After a quick sniff, Jericho popped the morsel into his mouth. He barely recalled how to chew, and swallowing for the past eighty-three years had been confined to liquids only. Though tender and succulent, the small bit of lobster took Jericho a few minutes to consume. He worked to swallow the last string of meat. "Do you enjoy fine wine, Mr. Hayes? Rich food?" "Of course. I have a large wine cellar in my home in Silicon Valley, and I employ a gourmet chef." Michael shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I . . . I had no idea you could eat and drink, or I would have—" "We can't"—Jericho's tone held a sharp edge—"and that is the point. Now, I suggest we adjourn to your suite, Mr. Hayes. In about fifteen minutes my body will reject these things you enjoy so much. Delicious wine, tasty food. I should insist you watch me heave, but I'll be kind and spare you the unpleasantness." Jericho snatched the cloth napkin beside his empty plate, dabbing at his lips as he stood. He tossed the napkin back to the table and pushed in his chair. "You'll never be able to eat or drink again. At least, not without paying dearly for the privilege."

Chapter Four Jericho became flushed and overly warm as his insides worked hard to expel the wine and small chunk of lobster. One would've thought he'd ingested a dozen of the crustaceans and a barrel of wine the way his body reacted. Once the ordeal ended, he washed off, brushed his teeth, and raked a comb through his hair. He didn't bother putting his shirt back on. When he emerged from the marble-and-brushed-nickel bathroom, he felt a hell of a lot better than when he'd entered. He didn't know how Gennady and other vampires managed the occasional indulgences of food and drink. The fleeting moment of sensory pleasure wasn't

remotely worth the ensuing agony and revulsion for him. In case Jericho decided to grant Michael's request, an empty human system would ease the transition. Jericho sent Michael to the suite's other bathroom to take care of business. Now, Michael stood near the bed looking pale and shaken, apparently having returned in time to hear Jericho's violent retching. Jericho leaned a shoulder against the door jamb and locked eyes with his host. "Any questions, Mr. Hayes?" Michael swallowed and licked his lips. He removed his tie, undid the top three buttons of his dress shirt, and lay back on the peacock-motif, king-sized bed. "Please join me." Jericho kicked off his footwear. He scooted next to Michael, lying on his side, and started drawing invisible glyphs on Michael's chest with a fingertip. "For a moment, let's pretend I've gone completely insane and have decided to grant your request. Tell me what you expect." He could feel Michael's heart began to race, the simple touch seeming to tie Michael's tongue. But the man recovered and dared to run three fingers down Jericho's cheek, the strategic placement of the pulsing wrist noticed. "Meaning, do I want you to stick around and coddle me for the next twenty years? Absolutely not. I expect you to remain with me long enough so I don't crash and burn on my first day, but I realize you're a busy man. So am I." What little blood Jericho still had left in his system after the long trip and a longer fast had been regurgitated with the wine and lobster. Running on empty, cold and hungry, he wasn't in the best frame of mind for making life-altering decisions. On an intellectual level he knew he should decline, but he sniffed at Michael's wrist and felt bloodlust crowding out all rational thought. "No one can know." Jericho opened the remaining buttons on Michael's shirt. "I want no part of being your sire. I'll make you, but I want nothing to do with you once you're able to fend for yourself. You'll think you're ready in a day or so. You won't be." Jericho brushed hair away from Michael's neck and dragged his nose along the line of the exposed jugular area. He caught Michael's tender skin with a soft scrape of his fangs. "Those are my non-negotiable terms." Michael put his arms loosely about Jericho's waist. "I'll take good care of you while you take care of me. You won't want for anything." Michael moaned, reaching down between them. He drew back in surprise after finding

Jericho's cock soft and limp. Jericho arched an eyebrow. "Problem?" "Vampires can't—" Michael's eyes grew wide, his face ashen. "If you turn me, will I never be able to have sex again?" Jericho chuckled and spread his lips in a wide smile fully exposing his formidable fangs. "Do you honestly think I would've accepted your money and come all this way if I weren't able to fuck? I haven't fed in four days—you're lucky I can walk and think." He twirled a lock of Michael's dark-blond hair in his fingers, lowered his other hand to work on his belt and slacks. He shimmied out of all his clothes. "The instructions stressed you wanted me hungry." Michael smiled, traveling his gaze from sharp fangs to limp cock. He boldly wrapped his fingers around Jericho's balls, fondling them as if sampling the material of an expensive suit. "If you feed from me, you'll gain enough blood to get hard?" "That's the general idea." Jericho deftly unbuckled Michael's belt and pulled the leather with a ratcheting movement through linen loops. "The more blood, the harder I get, the longer I last." Jericho dragged his dry tongue from the tip of Michael's chin down the rigid cords of the man's throat, circling the prominent Adam's apple. After popping the button of Michael's trousers open, he tugged on the zipper. Michael started exploring Jericho's body with his hands, and Jericho stretched out. Crawling on top, Michael trapped him at the hips with his knees. His cock, not at all lacking for blood, rested heavy and warm on Jericho's cold belly. "I want to watch how feeding affects you." Jericho remained prone, still and lifeless, staring blankly at Michael for a long, stagnant minute. Finally he blinked, lowering his gaze to Michael's erection lying flushed red and full on his abs. He curved his lips into a feral, fang-baring grin. "Where do you want your souvenir, baby?" Michael replied after a lengthy consideration. "You choose. I'm here for the week and told my staff I wasn't to be disturbed unless for a dire emergency. The current economic climate in my industry is stable, and I trust my senior people. I don't anticipate interruption." Michael lowered his face between Jericho's thighs and brushed his nose through blond curls. After delivering several well-placed kisses, he sat back. "Mark me anywhere you like." With Michael's heartbeat thumping like a drum in his ears, Jericho pressed his thumb into

the juncture where hip meets leg, digging in hard against Michael's left femoral artery. "You have a strong heart. Good." The pulsing of the vein quickened. Michael swallowed. "You're agreeing to change me?" "Yes." Jericho smiled. A warm string of pre-cum drizzled his belly. "How long will this take?" "Varies from person to person. You're young and strong, so I suspect the process shouldn't take too long." Jericho grinned. "You'll be feeling fine and ready to fuck in no time." Jericho straddled Michael's thighs and leaned forward, having reversed their positions at the speed of light. His balls and flaccid cock dragged along Michael's steely erection as he got into position. "Do you want my bite to cause you pleasure or pain? This aspect of vampirism is under my complete control." "I want to remember this forever. Pleasure is so transient." With a growling, hissing snarl Jericho fell on him, fangs piercing the soft flesh of Michael's neck over the carotid artery, tonguing at the blood to hasten the flow. The bite, he knew, felt excruciating to Michael—a sharp sting first, followed by unholy burning, like twin blades super-heated in a blast furnace burrowing into living flesh. The first few minutes were the worst. Michael thrashed at the beginning, the natural, primal instinct to fend off attack and survive kicking in. He bellowed, trying to kick out from underneath, but Jericho's superior agility and strength overpowered him with ease. Gradually, Jericho sensed Michael's pain receding under the wash of endorphins and fading consciousness. Jericho sucked hard, swallowing fast to keep up with the river of warm, sticky blood pulsing into his mouth. A blissful moan gurgled the blood pooling in his mouth. His body responded to the feeding within minutes, a firm, youthful erection swelling to an exquisite, steady ache. Michael came as close to exsanguination as possible while still maintaining a thready pulse. Even with no further emptying, he had only minutes left to live. Before panic set in—and panic always did—Jericho pulled away, warm blood running down his chin. He flipped Michael over and lay on top of him, gripping muscular shoulders hard to press him forcefully into the mattress. Belly full and content as a kitten, he purred seductively into Michael's ear. "You have about five minutes until you bleed out completely." Jericho sucked Michael's right earlobe into his mouth and bit cleanly through the center

with a bloody, needle-sharp fang. An earring he'd noticed in the duty-free shop at the Dubai airport had tickled his fancy. A single, diamond stud, the jewelry would make a lovely memento for Michael to remember him by. He lapped the bright, fresh bead of blood from Michael's newly pierced earlobe, one of the few remaining drops the man had left in his body. "Do you want me to fuck you before I take your humanity?" "Oh God, yes," Michael whispered. Jericho placed a small, wet kiss on Michael's cheek, smiling at the bloody lip print left behind. He gripped his hard, hot cock and guided the head to Michael's dry hole. He knew what Michael would be experiencing now. Jericho had been through the ordeal long ago. The memory of coherent thought flickering like a light with a loose connection remained clear in his mind: on, off, on, off, aware one moment but not the next. Jericho exerted pressure against Michael's asshole and forced his way inside. Usually a considerate lover, he saw no practical need for gentleness now. He recognized imminent death by the shudders and twitches racking Michael's body. He thrust hard and sharp and quick, spearing repeatedly into Michael's resistant opening enough times to get off. Jericho came hard, bursts of white lust temporarily blinding his vision. He withdrew, climbed off Michael, and made his way across the room to the well-stocked bar. He fished around the various bartending implements until he found a small paring knife. Returning to the bed, he knelt beside it and stroked Michael's hair. "Michael," Jericho whispered. "Can you hear me?" Long lashes fluttered as Michael struggled to open his eyes. "Y-yes." Jericho held the small blade for Michael to see and laid his other arm outstretched on the bed. "Cut across the inside of my elbow and you'll sever the brachial artery." He smiled. "Not as sexy a visual, perhaps, but much more efficient than the wrist." A glimmer of hope flared in dulling eyes. With barely enough strength left to raise his arm, Michael took the knife in a weak grip and placed the blade against Jericho's skin. Jericho wrapped his fingers around Michael's hand, guiding the blade to the desired spot. He pressed firmly, a small drop of Michael's now-corrupted blood welling in the wake of the miniscule nick. "You have to do this, Michael. I know you're weak, but this has to clearly be your choice or else you'll become an ugly, miserable vampire. Give me one little pull, and I'll do the rest." Jericho placed a light, warm kiss on Michael's bluish lips. "You're almost there." A trembling hand moved under Jericho's, drawing the sharp blade downward to leave a

thin line of red. Barely enough pressure, but several tiny beads of blood bubbled to the surface as Michael's hand fell away. Jericho took the knife from Michael's twitching hand and smiled. Slicing through his skin, he further opened the modest wound. He tossed the knife to the floor, climbed onto the bed, and pulled Michael into his arms. With an arm curved around Michael's neck, he offered him new life. "Take your time," Jericho said. "You'll be tempted to be greedy." Michael closed his lips over the bleeding gash and without pause began to drink. Something extraordinary happened as Jericho watched Michael feed, as he cooed small words of encouragement to him and stroked his hair. Strong, jarring emotions brewed inside him for which he felt utterly unprepared. Jericho blinked his eyes and tried to shuck the feelings away. He'd apparently missed the memo on this particular aspect of vampirism. He looked down at Michael suckling at his arm and felt alarmingly parental.

Chapter Five Once the fireworks display ended, Jace and Konnor headed off to the party already in full swing at Tailz. Their bar and nightclub had become a local hot spot, and on so-called drinking holidays like Independence Day they were especially busy. With Fallon's head resting on his shoulder, Gennady swung his legs to rock the porch swing as they looked at the night sky. Long wisps of smoke still blotted out some of the stars, and the faintest smell of sulfur hung in the air. Gennady loudly slapping one of his legs broke the peaceful moment. He nudged his head against Fallon's. "Are you ready to go inside?" He swatted himself again. "Damn mosquitoes seem especially fond of my blood." "My blood, you mean." Fallon grinned, hopped off Gennady's lap, and offered him a hand. "No, my blood. Haven't you ever heard possession is nine-tenths of the law?" On his feet, Gennady slid an arm around Fallon's waist. "Hungry again yet? There's a watermelon in the refrigerator. Nice and ripe."

Gennady opened the screen door and guided Fallon inside. "I could needle you and ask if by saying possession you mean the blood or my whole person, but I already know the answer." Fallon went straight to the refrigerator. "Are you going with Jericho to the police station tomorrow night?" "If he shows." Gennady grabbed a large knife from a rack and a plate from an overhead cabinet. "I've left three messages on his cell phone. The last time I called, his phone clicked right over to voice mail, so either he's turned his phone off or the battery's run out." Gennady set the plate and knife on the butcher-block table in the center of the room. Fallon fiddled with the hem of his T-shirt. "I think I know where he is." "Oh?" Gennady nudged Fallon out of the way and pulled the refrigerator door open. He hefted the large melon from the bottom shelf and let the door swing closed on its hinges. "Tell me what you know." Fallon nibbled at his lower lip with a sharp canine tooth. He'd been sneaking around the secret passages inside the walls of the house again, visiting his hidden stashes of trinkets. As he wandered through the passage nearest Jericho's old bedroom, he'd overheard Jericho's end of a phone conversation. "I didn't mean to listen in," Fallon said, "but Jericho took on another one of those out-oftown deals. He sounded excited, too. He asked if they'd already booked him a flight." Gennady stopped slicing the melon and set the knife carefully on the table. "What out-oftown deals? A flight to where?" Fallon winced. "I don't know, exactly. He gets these calls sometime, where the conversation doesn't sound personal, but he doesn't use any legal mumbo-jumbo either. He's had at least three of these calls since he's been home, and each time he takes off afterward for a couple days and doesn't tell any of us where he's going." The sweet, summery smell of the watermelon became too much, and Fallon leaned over to snatch a piece. He ran his tongue over the wedge of fruit to catch the juices and popped the morsel into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed with haste. "Anyway, he mentioned something about a passport this time." "He's gone overseas?" Gennady rolled his eyes. "When did you hear this latest conversation?" "Two days ago. I'm sorry I didn't say something sooner, but I didn't think what I heard was important until now. And . . . well, I feared you'd be mad to find out I'd been snooping."

Gennady offered Fallon a small smile and a quick peck on the cheek. "I'm not angry with you." Taking up the knife again, he sliced another wedge of watermelon and handed the fruit over. "He left here yesterday evening, so he could be anywhere by now." Fallon gobbled the watermelon. "I don't understand why he always wants to run off. We're his family, but sometimes I think he doesn't care." The phone rang, and Fallon jumped. Heart racing, he looked to Gennady. Gennady flipped the knife into the remaining hunk of watermelon and went to answer the wall phone. "Zaitsev residence; Gennady speaking." He listened for a moment, his forehead wrinkling. "I don't know where he is, Samantha. Fallon and I were just discussing him." Fallon held his breath. Detective Samantha "Sam" Wright, in addition to being on the Salem Police force, sat as one of two human members on the Salem Special Council. She also had an intimate relationship with Jericho that had turned rocky several years ago. Fallon could tell by Gennady's expression Sam wasn't a happy camper. After listening for another minute, Gennady spoke again, a look of agitation crossing his beautiful Asian features. "I'm well aware of the ramifications, Samantha. I helped draft the law, as you may recall. I'll keep you informed." Fallon cringed at the sound of the phone receiver hitting the plastic. "What will they do to him if he doesn't show on time?" "Three days of solitary confinement at the maximum security prison in Shirley." Gennady dragged his fingers through his long, black hair. "We have to find him, Fallon."

Chapter Six Michael slept through the rest of the night and one entire passage of daylight hours. When he woke, he found Jericho pressed close to him but asleep. He slipped from Jericho's arms and sat up to look around. Even in the curtained darkness of the room, the rich jewel tones of the hotel leaped at him with hue saturations he'd never seen before. His other senses began to awaken. He could hear movement and realized the sounds were footsteps coming from two suites away. Noises of all sorts began cascading and crashing around him. Terrible, painful buzzing—like a chorus of chainsaws or a tremendous swarm of angry bees

—assaulted his ears. He reached over to shake Jericho awake. Stretching and appearing content, Jericho rolled onto his back. His gaze went to the bedside table where his cell phone insistently buzzed. He reached for the phone and pressed a button. The hideous buzzing stopped. Jericho set the phone back on the table and looked at Michael. "How do you feel?" "Everything is so damn loud!" Michael closed his eyes, wincing against the pain. Jericho sat up, fluffed two pillows and settled back. "Might take a few days, but your mind will grow accustom to the barrage. You'll be able to block out what you choose and zero in on what you wish to hear. There's no trick or practice necessary; the process will happen naturally in due course." "Thank God I chose a relatively quiet hotel. I don't think I'll be leaving this room for a few days." Michael ran a hand down his face. He looked toward the cell phone but said nothing. "Otherwise, I feel good—remarkably so." He lifted a hesitant hand to his mouth to feel for his new fangs. Pricking his finger on one, Michael laughed, leaped off the bed like a giddy five-year-old, and ran to the bathroom. He leaned over the sink and looked into the mirror, expecting to see those shiny new points. Nothing. Nothing at all except the rest of the bathroom behind him. "Fuck. I forgot." He felt Jericho move behind him while he stared at the eerie vacancy in the bathroom mirror. "Legends claim we have no reflection because we have no soul." Jericho nuzzled his nose against Michael's neck. "I prefer to believe we're so beautiful mere glass can't handle our image." "Or perhaps punishment for your vanity." Whatever the reason, Michael forgot the empty mirror and turned his full attention to Jericho. "I have so many questions, but all I want is to touch you, to feel your body, to—but I can't, can I? Not until I feed again?" "Unfortunately, feeding immediately prior to sex is a requirement," Jericho said, "but sex as the living consider isn't the only form of intimate gratification available." Capturing Michael's face between his palms, Jericho gave him a soft, promising kiss and gazed deeply into his eyes. "You can reach into my mind to sense my desires and cravings, my longings. Different, but every bit as intimate as flesh rubbing flesh and perhaps even more so in some respects. We're connected now, Michael. No matter how much physical distance separates us, we're a part of each other."

Jericho bore his gaze into Michael's eyes, the tendrils of his thoughts grasping onto Michael's as surely as if they possessed solid mass. Michael pressed the side of his face against Jericho's and swore he could feel something. A weak tremor at first, but the longer he focused on the feeling, the clearer the sensation became. After many minutes, Michael laughed and nuzzled his face into the crook of Jericho's throat. "I feel the link. I feel you. I wasn't sure at first, but I felt you question yourself, wondering how long you should stay with me." Michael drew back. "You're late for something because of me." "Not bad for a newborn." Jericho smiled, and he gave Michael's upper arms a congratulatory squeeze. "I've missed a rather crucial appointment. I'm afraid I'll have some penance to do after returning to Salem." Michael clucked his tongue. "Keeping appointments is important, Jericho. If you need to leave, I can call for my pilot and have him here within the hour." "You're not ready to be left alone yet, and I promised I wouldn't abandon you." Jericho crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. "This isn't a voluntary appointment. Are you aware of the situation in Salem, Massachusetts regarding my—our—kind?" "No, I can't say I am." A painting caught Michael's attention and he went to the wall where the artwork hung, running his finger along the surface of the dried swirls of paint. In a manner he'd never noticed before, the colors seemed to bleed into each other rather than stop and start, and he found the detail fascinating. Jericho smiled at Michael's newfound curiosity. "Supernaturals live openly in Salem. Vampires, demons, angels, were-folk, and witches all live in relative freedom beside our human neighbors, except for one catch: we have to register our whereabouts if we're inside the city limits for more than a few days. I have a place in New York City, but I moved back to Salem recently after one of my adopted brothers got into a serious scrape. I'm not sure if you know this, but I'm an attorney by profession, not a whore." Jericho chuckled, the sound good-humored and self-deprecating. "Though I guess some would claim there's little difference." "Register? Like a sex offender? The government knows about us?" "The federal government?" Jericho wrinkled his nose. "No, just Salem. Few of the worldwide supernatural underground are inclined to reveal themselves, so we in Salem have managed to keep a snug lid on things here at home. The citizenry has been extraordinarily cooperative." Jericho smirked. "Apparently our hedonistic ways have been good for the local

economy. The downside is they want to keep us on a tight leash. The process is degrading and humiliating, suspicion before any crime. I'm vehemently opposed to the entire concept, but my father's position in the community prohibits me from being too vocal in my dissent." "Did you say demons and angels?" Michael sat on the edge of the bed. "And were-folk and witches." Michael sighed. "What else is out there that most people know nothing about?" Jericho sat on the bed next to Michael. "For all I know, there could be faeries and gnomes in the forest and merfolk in the sea, but we simply haven't come across any yet. Look how long my kind managed to remain hidden." "So much to take in." Michael fell silent. "When I go back to California, will I suddenly be aware my neighbor is a werewolf or a demon? Will I be able to see them for what they really are now?" "As in some sort of special gift of sight? No, not exactly. But your heightened senses and awareness will give you a distinct advantage over your former human self in that regard. You'll notice things, little details people don't recognize, which allows all of us to fly under the radar if we so choose." Jericho placed a hand on Michael's knee. "I came through tight security in three international airports, rode with your chauffeur and bodyguard, and sat with you over a leisurely dinner in a crowded restaurant. Did anyone raise an eyebrow? Of course not. We've learned how to hide in plain sight." Jericho drifted his hand along Michael's thigh. "And yes—we are everywhere." Jericho had to be the most honest, sensual creature Michael had ever known, and he found himself falling for him hard. He parted his legs and leaned closer to run his fingers along Jericho's chest. "What do I call you now? My maker? My sire?" "In public," Jericho said, sliding one hand behind Michael's neck, "you should call me by my name as you would anyone else." The touch sent a pleasant chill along Michael's spine. "And when we aren't in public?" He arched his pelvis toward Jericho and made a soft gasp. They'd yet to dress, and though neither of them could achieve an erection, Michael swore he felt aroused to stiffness anyway. He pushed Jericho onto the bed and straddled his waist, lowering his face for a challenging kiss. "In private you may call me—" Jericho scraped a fang along Michael's tongue, and when he pulled away he looked toward the ceiling, a coy tilt to his head as he pondered. He returned

his eyes to Michael, his mouth curving into a wicked grin. "Father." Jericho twisted his fingers in Michael's hair, pressing their mouths together in a clashing kiss made of tongue and teeth and fangs. He bucked his hips, grinding his soft cock and ball sac between Michael's legs. Legs wide, head tossed back, Michael rutted against Jericho and enjoyed the sensation. "Father," Michael moaned, bucking against Jericho with rough thrusts. "Seems a bit perverse, but God . . . feels so good. Harder, Jericho, harder!" "Perverse?" Jericho chuckled. "You have a lot to learn, my darling." He kept rubbing, rolling his hips, working Michael into a sex-crazed frenzy. "So good." "Fuck, yes." Michael lowered his hand, ran his palm over Jericho's ass. "You'll teach me everything I need to know?" "School is already in session." Jericho lifted one side of his ass off the bed to give Michael easier access. "We call this class The True Meaning of Insatiable Lust 101." He dipped his head, took one of Michael's nipples between his teeth and gave a sharp tug. The playful bite pulled a growl from Michael. He rolled off Jericho and snatched the small bottle of lubricant sitting near Jericho's cell phone on the bedside. "Vampires must bring sex toy companies a lot of business. Perhaps I should diversify my corporation's assets." Jericho rolled onto his stomach, propped up on his elbows to look over his shoulder at Michael. "What do you think drives us to feed? Not merely a craving for food in our bellies." Jericho chuckled. "This is going to be a very interesting few weeks for you." Michael felt his face tingle and if he'd had enough blood in him, he would've been blushing. The concept that most alleged vampire attacks were sexual in nature now made sense. He drew two slicked fingers along the crack of Jericho's ass. When he touched Jericho's hole, he flicked one finger back and forth, teasing. "You're beautiful, Jericho. I thought so the moment I saw you." Michael coned three fingers together and pressed in. "I can't wait to fuck you with a full cock after I'm able to feed." The force shoved Jericho forward on his elbows and he lifted his ass higher. An inhuman sound—part moan, part growl—rumbled deep in his throat. "More." With one hand gripping Jericho's hip, Michael used his full force and pushed his fingers in deeper, over and over, finally easing one finger out so the other two could go that much farther. Fingers inserted up to his palm, he twisted his hand around and curled both fingers

downward. "Now let me hear you sing." "Oh, Michael." Jericho moaned, his body shuddering, spreading his legs wider as if to take all Michael could give. "More, deeper, oh fuck, Michael . . . ." Michael smiled, feeling truly wicked. "Like that, Father?" He flicked his fingers again across Jericho's prostate. "Moan some more for me. God, I can feel you inside my head!" As Jericho arched and bucked against his embedded fingers, Michael humped against Jericho's flank and his eyes began losing focus. Jericho pulled up onto his hands and knees, rocking back on Michael's hand like a greedy whore. "Michael, we . . . we have to stop." "Stop? No!" Jericho snarled. "You don't understand. We have to stop! Unless we feed and satisfy this itch, we'll kill each other trying." The words sank in and Michael backed off, pulling his fingers out and moving away. Jericho rolled onto his back. "That was close." "I never lose control like that." Michael flopped back onto the mattress. "I'm sorry." "Not your fault." Jericho sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, shaking like a junkie in need of a fix. "You're so incredibly hot, and I'm so turned on. I guess I got caught up in the heat of the moment because you're my"—Jericho bit his lip and looked at the carpet —"because you're my first." "Your first?" Michael sat next to Jericho. "Your first made?" Jericho nodded. Michael should've been angry at the admission, but he wasn't. In fact, he felt quite pleased with the idea, and more than a little proud. "After all this time, what made you choose me as your first?" "I don't know, exactly." Jericho shrugged. "I do know money wasn't the impetus. My father has more than any of us could ever spend, and I don't do too shabbily with my law practice. I can't accept the fee for our rendezvous now, but I'll make sure to compensate the broker so there won't be any trouble." Jericho traced Michael's eyebrows with the tips of gentle fingers. His voice became lower, softer. "Something in your eyes. Things were different years ago; there weren't human rules of conduct for us to abide like we have today. We hunted and

killed to feed, and we did so without guilt or remorse. I've looked more than my share of men in the eyes while they were begging me for their lives, but I've never seen anyone want to live as badly as you. I couldn't say no."

Chapter Seven Mammon turned off the motor of the late-model Jaguar, watching as several people came and went from the imposing old manor. He checked his reflection in the mirror one last time before sliding out from behind the wheel. Weathered steps creaked as he climbed to the porch. He rang the bell and cast a glance over the railing at the harbor nestled beside the house. Even in the darkness he could see his sailboat, Avarice, rocking on the inky water. He'd take her out again once everything fell into place. ***** At the sound of the bell, Lady Fiona Davies tapped a finger to her computer screen to monitor the security system. The new arrival hadn't been expected, but hers was a house of hospitality and she never turned away a worthy guest. The brothel owner had recently finished up behind closed doors, a rare evening session with one of her exclusive "special requirements" clients. Not everyone could handle a young werewolf in full change and live to tell the story, much less walk away without a scratch. She'd taken good care of him; the horny little bastard would no doubt be sitting gingerly for at least the next few days. Fiona smiled at the images broadcast from the hidden cameras on the front porch. "Mammon, you handsome devil, you." His human form was that of a young man somewhere in his late twenties, with fiery red hair curling around his neck as if made of living tendrils. A smattering of freckles across both cheeks and the bridge of his nose made him look several years younger than the age he intended. He blamed his eerie, pale blue eyes on contact lenses worn for rebellious affectation. Fiona

chuckled again. The miracles of modern vanity items made hiding in plain sight that much easier for demons like Mammon—a.k.a. Kendall Norman—and her. She flicked off her computer and the Tiffany lamp on her desk. Heading toward the lobby, she slipped into a sheer, powder blue, floor-length robe before traveling down the wide, red-carpeted stairs. There were rules in her house and she led by example. Men didn't walk around shirtless, and ladies had to cover themselves with a robe or négligée. Fiona wrapped the blue satin sash around her waist, securing the robe over the matching thong and brassière she wore underneath. Rules were rules. Crowded, the lobby teemed with clients and whores passing back and forth between the Victorian parlors on either side of the grand foyer. Unobtrusive background music, the murmur of conversations, soft laughter, the melodious tinkling of ice in fine crystal glasses filled the warmly lit house. Fiona smiled politely at her girls and boys, and at the clients who looked her way as she gracefully crossed the floor. Waif thin, in five-inch heels she stood six-foot-three. Her ghost-pale skin provided dramatic contrast to the wavy mane of thick, red hair cascading well past her shoulders. Her ethereal beauty turned heads, even among the stunning creatures she employed, and though she was far too well bred to admit such a thing, she secretly enjoyed the attention. ***** Mammon smiled inwardly as Fiona opened the ornate double doors with a grand flourish, careful to keep his expression polite and vague. "Good evening," Fiona said, her voice a deep, sexy purr. "Welcome to Paradise Lost." Rawr. "Thank you, Lady Fiona. I've brought the permits for you to sign for the new addition to the structure." "Ah! You must be Mr. Kendall Norman from the Mayor's office." Fiona shut the door. She hooked elbows with him and ushered him up the stairs, smiling and nodding as they passed patrons and workers. Fiona closed and locked the door once they were safely ensconced in her private office. She kicked off her shoes. "A pleasure to see you again, Kendall." He chuckled. "Please . . . for you I am forever Mammon. This is one of the few places I

can hear my true name and not worry about who's trying to send me packing." Crossing his arms over his chest, he lounged against the wall as she made herself comfortable in her executive chair. "Always a pleasure to find my way back here, my dear. Business is brisk, I see?" "As long as people believe in God, there'll be those who wish to give him the finger. The vice professions never suffer even in the worst of economic times." Fiona sank into her leather chair and propped her feet on the corner of her desk, her long legs crossed at the ankles. She pushed a pewter cigarette caddy toward Mammon and flipped the lid open. "Your favorite." Mammon came forward and indulged in one of the rich imports. He dropped into the soft, white leather chair at the front of Fiona's desk and lit up. "I've received word that Jericho Zaitsev has completed his assignment." Mammon took two long drags from the cigarette. "He's due back in town tomorrow night. Mr. Michael Hayes will be flying our little pigeon home personally. This puts their arrival back in Salem well after Jericho's registration deadline." Fiona plucked up a cigarette and rolled it around unlit between her fingers. "Mr. Hayes is coming to Salem?" Her blue eyes sparkled, and she let out a throaty, lustful laugh. "Jericho doesn't suspect?" "Apparently not. Are you honestly so surprised?" Mammon let his eyes wander over Fiona's pale form with appreciation. "He's reckless but predictable—the perfect choice to send to Dubai. Away from his doting daddy, Jericho is easy." "About damn time we got this party started. This news deserves a toast." Fiona swiveled her chair to reach the bar behind her desk. She poured two tumblers full of a light amber liquid, spun in her chair and handed one to him. "Three-hundred-year-old Welsh whiskey." "I told you everything would work out. You must learn to exercise more patience." Mammon raised his glass. "With Michael's financial backing, we can get our plans for world dominance underway. To us, my dear, and to those with weak enough wills to bring us what we need." Fiona clinked crystal with Mammon and smiled. "Now, we need to start pecking away at the Salem Special Council. We need to replace a few of Gennady Zaitsev's lemmings with our own people so we can more effectively manage voting. The fiasco of Jace Barton running amok proved to be the last straw. If the vote would have gone my way, the Mayor's office would've been involved, and we would already be rid of that jackass pest of a demon and his carbon copy." Fiona tipped her head back, downing the whole glass of whiskey in a single swallow. "A

shame. I would've loved to have put that chink in the elder Zaitsev's armor." "And here I thought you liked the big brutish sort like Jace." "Oh, please. Credit me with some taste." With a smirk on her face, Fiona rose from her seat. She grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured another glass. "How is your boss, by the way? Strings still secure on our Pinocchio?" Mammon took a sip of whiskey, topped off with a quick puff of his smoke. "Any resistance Mayor Lancer initially offered is long gone. I could leave him to destroy this city by his lonesome if not for his libido. He'd be too easily distracted chasing after his interns. I wouldn't be surprised if one day you catch him knocking at your door, darling." "I don't let riffraff inside these doors. Even whores have certain minimum standards." Fiona rolled her eyes, laughing. Downing her second whiskey, she set the bottle and her glass aside, and leaned back against her desk. "Anything promising on the schedule, Mr. Pleasure Broker Extraordinaire?" Mammon snuffed out his cigarette and sat back in the chair, swirling the remainder of his whiskey in the glass. "Precisely why I came in person and didn't simply call you with the news about Jericho. The mayor and I attended the local Gun and Trapper Convention last weekend. We shared a table at dinner with a gentleman from Maine who has a great deal of money to burn. A skilled hunter with a taste for, shall we say, more challenging game." Fiona stroked her chin, musing. A smile spread across her exquisite face, and dark red horns spiraled rapidly out of her skull. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" "You do want to take Gennady down a few pegs, do you not?" Mammon stood, set his glass on Fiona's desk, and ran a finger along one of her horns. "Can you make the arrangements?" Fiona grinned. "Is the Pope still Catholic?"

Chapter Eight Jericho woke with a start at the sound of his cell phone buzzing again on the bedside nightstand. He reached for the phone carefully so as not disturb Michael and shut off the missed call reminder again. Smiling, he ran his eyes over his newborn's nude, sleeping body.

Over the next few days Michael would sleep a great deal, and when he wasn't snoozing he'd want to feed. Eat and sleep, sleep and eat. Freshly made vampires weren't called newborns for nothing. Easing off the bed to minimize dipping the mattress, Jericho opened the French doors leading onto the private balcony. The warm desert breeze mingled with the fresh, clean scent of salt water. Lights dotted the Persian Gulf several hundred feet below: sailboats, cruise ships, and luxurious private yachts. Jericho stretched, taking in the exotic landscape. I could get used to this. Sighing, he returned to reality and checked his phone. Eleven messages—nine of which were from Gennady. Worry about Jericho's absence, reminders about his deadline to register with Salem's Department of Special Enforcement. Shit. He looked at the phone's display. Given the time zone difference and the length of the flights back to the States, Jericho was already screwed. Against his better judgment, he listened to the remaining two messages. Both were from Samantha Wright, Salem Police detective and his former lover. Jericho winced several times as he listened to her messages, and he swore one of these days he'd wash that woman's mouth out with a bar of soap. Shaking his head, he leaned over the balcony railing, reared back his right shoulder and stopped just short of pitching his damn phone into the Persian Gulf. He cursed under his breath at his own unwillingness to let go of the past and having acted with such recklessness in the present. He re-entered the room to find Michael awake. "You look unsettled," Michael said. "I can expedite the flight if you need to return home." "Fuck home." Jericho tossed his phone onto the nearest table on his way to the bathroom. "At least until I figure out how to get out of this goddamn mess you've gotten me into." "Excuse me?" Michael jumped out of bed, hot on Jericho's heels, and he grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. "First off, you chose to do this. Yes, I made the request, but you had the final say. Second, I've already offered my assistance. Why don't you tell me what's going on so I can do a better job of determining a solution?" Jericho smirked. "I can't help but wonder what you would've done had I said no." He ran

a hand through his hair. "That wasn't fair. I'm sorry, Michael. This trip has put me in a bind, and you're right—the situation is my own damn fault. I've now missed my registration deadline in Salem. If I go back, I go to prison." "Prison? A bit harsh, wouldn't you say?" Michael's temper quieted. "Harsh?" Jericho shrugged. "Maybe. A deterrent for potential future offenders as much as anything, I suppose. Remember, we're talking supernaturals here. The humans in Salem have agreed to tolerate us, but do they trust us? Fuck no, and they never will." "Why go back to Salem at all? You should come back to California with me. I have plenty of room." "If not for the fact my family lives there, I'd never go back. The people of Salem consider themselves progressive and enlightened because they allow us to live beside them." Jericho leaned back against a heavy teak dresser, gripping the edge with controlled anger. The wood creaked under the pressure of his hands. "I'm surprised they haven't tattooed fucking barcode on us yet. I play the game to appease my father, but I hate it. I fucking hate it." "I believe there are others who feel the way you do." Michael paused, clearly pondering whether or not to continue. "Specifically, the ones who put me in touch with you. When I first spoke with Mr. Lancer about my desires, he informed me he might be able to find someone willing to change me if I pledged significant funding to their cause. I agreed, but now I'm not so sure my decision to do so was entirely of my own accord." Michael scratched his chin and seemed to be searching for an elusive memory. "I think there may have been some supernatural persuasion involved." "Did you say Lancer?" Wood splintered in Jericho's hands. "Harvey Lancer?" The reaction startled Michael. He took a step back. "Yes. I spoke to him and one other man over the phone during the course of negotiations for you. Mr. Lancer's assistant, if I'm not mistaken." "Well, isn't that special." Jericho released the dresser and brushed debris off his hands, grinning. "I don't know about the assistant—I've only dealt with an anonymous third party—but Harvey Lancer is Salem's goddamn Mayor."

Chapter Nine

Mammon returned to the mayor's office Wednesday around noon in his guise of Kendall Norman. The secretary told him the mayor was expecting him, which made him smile. Of course he was expected. He shouldered open the heavy oak door and entered the office to find his employer standing by the large bay window overlooking the Salem Green, seeming deep in thought. Mammon locked the chamber door. A large man, Mayor Harvey Lancer's doctors had warned him repeatedly about his weight and resulting health. His health issues were common knowledge in Salem, as was his stubborn streak. Whether in his personal life or the decisions of his office, once he took a stand he rarely backed down. Everything changed when the charming young Kendall Norman became City Council President and Mayor Lancer's right-hand man. Harvey didn't budge from his spot as Mammon entered the modest office. Not at all surprised by the lack of greeting, Mammon boldly walked to the large, cluttered desk and rifled through a stack of papers. He pocketed one letter of interest and took a handful of M&Ms from a crystal, seashell-shaped bowl before sliding into the mayor's big, black leather chair. "The arrangements have been made, Harvey." He waited until Mayor Lancer turned, the man's face blank and eyes vacant. Mammon flicked his gaze toward the phone-and-intercom console on the desk and watched as the mayor pressed a button. "Maryanne," Mayor Lancer said. "Please cancel all my appointments for today. I'm in a meeting with Mr. Norman and cannot be disturbed for any reason." After a decided pause, Mammon heard the whining retort from the secretary. The muscles of his jaw clenched tight. This wasn't the first time Maryanne had tried to interfere. If this continued, the woman would most certainly meet a bad end. "I know I've worked you hard this week, Maryanne," Mayor Lancer cajoled. "Why don't you take off for a few hours and have lunch with your mother?" Maryanne became far less argumentative, and Mayor Lancer thanked her and killed the connection. "She's annoying," Mammon grumbled. "You should get rid of her. Now sit." Mammon reached for another handful of candy. He watched Mayor Lancer drop into the guest chair across from him and smirked. Good dog.

Harvey grunted. "She's a hard worker. She's been my secretary for fifteen years." "You could have someone younger. Prettier. Naïve." Mammon popped two orange candies into his mouth. "No matter; she isn't the important issue at the moment. I've spoken with my associate, and we have the perfect candidate for Charles Thatcher, our hunter friend from Maine." Mammon made eye contact with Harvey, purposefully shifting his pale blue irises to their natural white. "The hunt will be ready for Saturday. Mr. Thatcher should meet us at Camel's Hump State Park in Vermont on the Forest City Trail. I'll take care of the rangers and officials in charge. No one will spoil his weekend of hunting. You'll need to call him and let him know the details." Mayor Lancer stared at Mammon, nodding dumbly, his mouth moving but making no sound. Under Mammon's thrall, Mayor Lancer's brain had become little more than a sponge to sop up whatever Mammon chose. "This is camping season." Mammon rolled the candies in his hand before plucking out the lone blue one. "We need Camel's Hump Park vacant. I'm having them close the entire mountain for the weekend on the pretense of spraying to reduce the mosquito population. West Nile Virus, you know." "Should I call them?" Mayor Lancer, looking dazed, reached toward the phone with fingers flexed and ready to dial. "No, you idiot! I already said I'd handle this. Do you understand?" "Oh, of course. Yes." "Excellent." Mammon shifted his eyes back to their marginally more human pale blue and released the extra-strong grip on his puppet. "Call Mr. Thatcher, Harvey, and then call me on my cell when everything is ready on your end."

Chapter Ten Fallon's nose twitched as a stray hair tickled him mercilessly, and the werefox rolled over onto his back with a groan. The itching stopped, but now he was awake. Even with the metal shades closed on the windows, which made the room as dark as night, Fallon's rumbling stomach declared "morning." No matter how hard he tried, sleep would be impossible until he filled the

growing ache in his belly. He looked to his left where Gennady lay, the vampire's boyish face the picture of innocence in deep repose. Fallon watched awhile longer and placed a kiss on Gennady's cheek before rolling out of bed. He tugged on his favorite pair of black jeans and hunted for a shirt. The first one he came across belonged to Gennady—a black T-shirt with GOT BLOOD? emblazoned across the front in red and white. Fallon smiled, knowing Gennady wouldn't mind if he borrowed. Once dressed, Fallon slipped quietly from the bedroom and met Konnor in the hallway doing the same. Fallon flashed him a smile. "Jace still sleeping?" "Yeah, like a baby." Konnor grinned. His gaze dropped to the slogan on Fallon's shirt, and a dark eyebrow lifted. "Advertising?" Fallon looked at the front of his shirt and laughed. "Seriously, I need to replenish my supply. I thought I'd grab some breakfast. You hungry?" "Starving." Konnor led the way down the wide staircase. "We had Chinese last night, and you know how that goes." Halfway down the curved staircase, Konnor hopped onto the banister and slid the rest of the way. He jumped to his feet when he reached the bottom and looked up the stairs at Fallon. "You eat one, and two hours later you're hungry again." "Konnor!" Fallon gave a mock gasp of horror before falling into a fit of laughter. "Don't let Sam hear you joking. I don't think she's quite over Jace eating the guy at the New Hampshire quarry, even if that wasn't his fault." He hopped off the last step and landed beside Konnor. "Race you!" They hit the kitchen doorway and an all-out struggle ensued to see who would get through first. Fallon squeezed by despite Konnor's attempt to block. "No fair." Konnor grinned. "You're skinny enough to fit through when the door is shut!" Laughing, Konnor darted to the refrigerator and flung open the door. Fallon came up from behind and gave him a smack, all in fun. Their relationship was an easy one, having grown even stronger over the span of Jace's recent tribulations and disappearance at the hands of John Banks. "We should have waffles." Fallon opened his eyes doe-wide and gave Konnor his cutest smile. "Make me waffles, Konnor." "Do you practice that look in front of the mirror or does it come naturally?" Konnor grabbed a jug of milk and two eggs, and started on the waffle mix while Fallon foraged in the

fridge. Fallon's black and white-tipped tail—sticking out of the hand-sewn slit in the back of his jeans—wagged happily. By the time the waffles were ready, he'd located fresh strawberries and whipped cream and proceeded to make a delicious mess. "What are you and Jace doing today?" "Eating and sleeping." Konnor settled across the table from Fallon. "The lower club opens for the weekend at nine tonight, so this is my last chance to kick back until Monday. We'll probably head over around six or so to set up." "Oh." Fallon stabbed a stack of three waffle pieces with his fork. "Everyone's either away or sleeping today. Normally I guess I would be, too, but I'm not tired. I might go downtown and see Dekin and Kelly. Dekin promised me a tarot card reading at his shop weeks ago." "Sounds like fun." Konnor went the more traditional route and slathered his waffles with butter and maple syrup. "I'd hang out with you if I didn't have to go to the club later. You ought to see if Dekin and Kelly want to come out tonight. How is Matthew Banks doing? Is he still living with them?" Fallon swirled a bite of waffle in strawberry juice. "Yes, he's still there. He and Kelly hit it off pretty well, but he's still kind of shaky around Dekin. Kelly told me Matthew has had some rough nights—bad dreams and crying and stuff. They're trying to find him a job in town so he can feel like he's part of something again." "Hmm." Konnor's looked lost in thought for a moment, but then his attention snapped back. After a few more big bites, he cleaned his plate and pushed it aside. He yawned and cracked his neck. "Supposed to be nice out today. Want to go get some exercise while the old people sleep?" "I think you'd better go back to bed for a few hours since you have to work all weekend. We can hang out another time." Fallon grabbed Konnor's plate along with his and placed them in the sink. "I should go for my run before the heat hits. I hear we're in for another scorcher today." Another long yawn from Konnor punctuated Fallon's point. "Yeah, maybe you're right," Konnor said. "Be careful, okay? And don't be gone too long; you know how Father frets when you're out of his sight lately." Fallon grunted. Gennady had been uncommonly overprotective of him lately, and Fallon was starting to feel the pinch. "It was only a dream. I promise—I'll stick to the woods behind the house and stay in my fox form." He tugged Konnor's long, gray tail. "Go back to bed. You look

like you're about to fall over." ***** After Konnor left, Fallon finished a cup of coffee while channel surfing on the kitchen television. Finger on the remote, he caught enough news, weather, and cartoons to satisfy before clicking the TV off. The morning staff began arriving and the time had come for Fallon to vacate the busiest room in the house. Laura, one of the younger cooks who had developed a deep fondness for the family—one of Gennady's regular blood donors—came through the door as Fallon cleaned up. "Oh, leave that for me, sweetie." Laura shooed Fallon away from the sink. "Honestly . . . you and Konnor both need to let us do our jobs." "Trust me, Laura; you do more than your share around here. You all do. I don't mind washing a coffee cup and a plate or two now and then." Laura shook her head. "You're a doll. Did Gennady leave any special instructions today? He's been in such a tizzy lately." "No," Fallon said, shrugging, "but he was meditating when I left him, so you might want to check on him later. I didn't want to disturb him." Fallon sighed. "I'm going outside for a little while. The weather for the next few days is iffy, and I've been cooped up in the house most of the week. I need to stretch my legs." Laura finished putting the clean dishes back in their proper places and turned to Fallon. "All right, sweetie. Be careful, and make sure you come back in time for dinner. Ann is making curry chicken with the pineapple rice you love so much." Fallon gave Laura a kiss on the cheek, made a cheerful yip, and ran out the back door. ***** Immense even by Salem standards, the Zaitsev property sat on the edge of the city proper where the houses were larger, the land less developed. Gennady had purchased enough land early on for the old Victorian mansion and carriage house to remain nestled in a private haven of green forever. A well-manicured lawn stretched for more than half an acre in back before hitting the

dense woods, which went on for another few acres before the private land ran into state-owned property. Fallon wandered to the back of the landscaped part of the property and rounded the corner of the carriage house before stripping. He'd learned as a small child how troublesome clothing could be when changing form after becoming tangled up in a shirt once and panicking. Konnor came running to the rescue upon hearing Fallon's screech, and ever since that episode Fallon made sure to undress before shifting. The instant his clothes were shed, he slipped into his fox form and disappeared into the thick brush. His early morning wilderness romps always started the same way. After thoroughly sniffing the air for strange scents, he would head along the well-worn path through the woods, stopping every few yards to check on food caches he'd left behind on prior outings. Today, the first two stashes he came across had been robbed, but the third still held his treasured morsels. In the middle of Fallon eating the leftover bird, a large Tiger Swallowtail flitted past him. Remains of the bird forgotten, Fallon bounded through the grass in hot pursuit of the bright yellow-andblack butterfly. ***** A small red vixen watched silently from the shrubs, a concentrated effort involved for her not to wag her tail, but she knew even the slightest sound would draw the other fox's attention. The clouds and trees hardly moved on this beautiful, sunny day, so with ease she stayed downwind as she watched the tall, slender boy leave the big house and change into his natural— and in her opinion—much more attractive form. Misty rarely transformed into her own human form. She was much more useful to her master in her more agile fox form than as a tall, lanky teenager. She'd become the bounty hunter's full-time scout almost a year ago. Ever since, she hadn't needed to worry about a safe place to sleep or where her next meal might come from. The black reynard with the cute white splotch on the tip of his tail leaped and pounced at the colorful butterfly, yapping as he played. The quick blip of her master's dog whistle made her wince. Responding to her cue to proceed, she hopped out of the bushes far enough so the romping black fox could see her. With a friendly smile and a wag of her tail, Misty cocked her

head. ***** Ears flat to his head, Fallon whined at the sudden sharp sound. He'd never heard such a thing before, but there didn't seem to be any danger. The butterfly landed a few feet away. Fallon dropped his front end low to the ground, ready to spring. His ears twitched, and he sniffed the air. Someone else lurked nearby. Fallon had spent most of his life in his human form. He shifted frequently, but not for long periods. Rarely had he come across other foxes, and even more seldom had they stopped to chat. Curious, Fallon inched forward, nose in the air. A vixen. He stopped, licking along his muzzle with his long tongue as very human worries crept into his thoughts. Looking back over his shoulder, he now wished Konnor had accompanied him. The red fox took a tentative step forward, too, and made a show of sniffing the air. ***** Misty wagged her tail harder. Like she'd endlessly practiced, she shifted partway and effectively pretended the transformation didn't hurt. But changing did hurt. Changing hurt like a bitch, but if she so much as yelped or flinched she'd give away the fact she was bad. That's what her master had taught her—the reason her shifting always hurt so much resulted from her inner wickedness. "Hi. My name's Misty." She cocked her head. "Do you want to play?" Her voice sounded human enough, but punctuated with little yips and whines. She swept her tail back and forth through the grass. The black fox tumbled backward. Apparently recovering from his surprise, he melted from one form to another with absolute grace. Human—save for his clawed hands and bushy tail and furry ears—he approached her again. "Uh . . . hi, Misty." His cheeks turned scarlet as his gaze ran along Misty's nude body. "Sure. I mean, I'd love to play. Do you live in Salem? I didn't know there were any other

werefoxes in town. You startled me." He swung his tail from side to side as he got close enough to take cautious, introductory whiffs. "I moved here with my dad a few days ago." Misty sniffed back as he sniffed her. "What's your name?" "Fallon. I live in the big house back there." He jerked his head in the direction he'd come from, seeming more at ease with the situation. "Welcome to Salem. Are you hungry? I have some food buried nearby." "Sure!" Misty squeaked. "But I need to ask my dad if I can stay out a little longer. I was supposed to check in about ten minutes ago." Misty slapped a paw down hard on a beetle scurrying by. "I don't want him to get mad and not let me go into the woods again. Wanna come with me?" She glanced toward the north side of the Zaitsev property. "Our new house is real close, over on Willow Street. We could change to fox form and race!" Fallon wagged his tail. "Sounds like fun! You probably shouldn't come out alone, though. These woods are pretty safe because no hunting is allowed around here, but you never know." "Follow me!" Again concealing the pain of changing, Misty shifted back into her full fox form and took off. She peeked back to watch Fallon change again—shifting didn't seem to hurt him at all, or else his acting skills were as good as hers—and he trotted along after her. Misty yipped three times and reared her head back playfully, beckoning Fallon to follow quicker.

Chapter Eleven Konnor opened his eyes with effort, the guest room on the second floor of Gennady's house coming blearily into view. Since the brush with their childhood jailers a few months before, Jace and Konnor had stuck close to each other and to home. They'd spent the night at their adoptive father's house lately as much as they slept at their own apartment over the bar. The previous night they'd both passed out cold upon returning from a wild night at the supernatural brothel, Paradise Lost. Konnor had gone back to bed after making Fallon's waffles, while Jace snoozed straight on through. Stretching, Konnor kicked the cool sheets off his nude body, grazing his brother's leg

with his foot. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty." A moan came from under the pillow Jace had covering his head. He shoved the pillow away, let out a long, blowing sigh, and cracked one shoulder at a time. "What time is it?" Konnor squinted at the clock, yawning. "A little after one-thirty. I can't believe I went back to sleep for so long." He rolled onto his belly and rested his chin on Jace's chest, scratching lightly through Jace's treasure trail with his fingers. "What the hell were you dreaming about, anyway? You kept kicking me." Jace's soft cock began to perk up. "Not sure." He lifted his hips off the bed, obviously sending Konnor a message. "I was in dark place—a cave or a tunnel—and the walls felt like they were closing in all around me. More nightmares left over from the whole Banks experience, I guess." "Whatever, it didn't sound pleasant." Konnor moved his fingers southward until he touched Jace's erection. "You were growling and snorting like crazy." Konnor ran a fingertip along the rapidly stiffening length. "And not in a good way." "Mmm, feels nice. Love when you're in the mood to play first thing." Jace moaned. "I'm sorry if I frightened you. Everything's fine now." Konnor kissed Jace's chest and ran his tongue over a small, brown nipple. "I bet I can make you forget all about that nasty bad dream." He licked a little lower, taking a sharp nip at the bottom of Jace's ribcage. He curled his fingers around Jace's dick with a light touch. "Care to make a wager?" "I know a sure bet when I see one, little brother. No thanks." Jace hissed, his cock swelling to fill Konnor's hand. He ran his fingers down the center of Konnor's back, caressing. "You just want to get me snorting and growling again, in the good way." "Coward." Konnor rubbed his cheek against Jace's belly, his hair tickling against Jace's skin. He tightened his grip and started a long, lazy stroking of Jace's cock. He flicked his tongue out and gave the head of the impressive erection a quick, darting lick. Jace's dark blue eyes rolled back and he dropped his head down to the pillow. "Fuck! Oh fuck, Konnor!" With a devilish grin Jace watched his twin creep closer and closer to the ultimate goal. "So naughty. Go on, little brother. Give me a nice suck." "Should castrate you with my teeth for what you put me through last night at Paradise Lost." Konnor wet his lips, slid them over the head of Jace's dick, sucking, his cheeks going

hollow. He pulled away with a quiet little pop and looked up expectantly. A purr started in the depths of Jace's chest. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself well enough. Bet the angel we tag-teamed is a hell of a lot more tired and sore than us today." Konnor grinned. Jace attacked, his growl clearly playful as he grabbed Konnor's hips and swung his brother's body around and on top of him. With Konnor's knees on either side of his head, Jace caught Konnor's dick between his lips and sucked while lifting his hips toward Konnor's mouth. "Sore, but happy." Konnor moaned when the head of his cock bumped the back of Jace's throat. With his forefinger and thumb, Konnor encircled the base of Jace's dick like a cock ring. He squeezed hard while he gripped Jace's thigh with his other hand and roughly spread Jace's legs wider apart. Konnor began a slow, grinding roll with his hips as he closed his mouth over Jace's erection, growling with content. Jace pressed his nose into Konnor's balls as he sucked harder, his throat undulating around Konnor's dick. "Mmm," Konnor hummed, loud enough to vibrate as he took Jace in deeper. He went to work in earnest, his head bobbing, throat constricting rhythmically to see how fast he could bring Jace off. He moaned again as he caught the salty, slightly bitter taste of Jace's cock drooling onto his tongue, and Konnor's dick flexed and quivered in response. Jace pulled off, wet his fingers and pressed them firmly to Konnor's hole. With his lips a tight seal around the crown of Konnor's dick, he rolled the pad of his middle finger around the tense opening and slipped in one knuckle deep. Konnor let loose a long, muffled groan. Jace sank his finger deeper, rubbing the firm gland that set Konnor's thighs to twitching. Konnor's stomach muscles tightened, his balls vainly attempting to crawl inside his body as he shot off hard and fast into Jace's sweet, hot mouth. Continuing to massage Konnor's prostate, Jace milked Konnor's orgasm for several more thrusts. He swallowed the exuberant flow and pulled out of Konnor's mouth. Not missing a beat, he moved fast and slipped behind Konnor to ease his hard cock into his brother's still-clenching hole. "Oh God, Konnor," Jace groaned, pushing in swift and deep. "Love you so much. Fuck, this is good."

Orgasm aftershocks shot through Konnor's body, his fingers digging through the damp sheets as he fell chest down onto the bed. Like his identical twin, sweat glistened on his smooth, tan skin and plastered his dark brown hair to his face and neck. Konnor moaned a litany of Jace and love you and fuck me into the twisted bedclothes. His head thrown back, Jace bayed as he worked his hips with a fury against Konnor's sweat-soaked thighs. After only a few deep thrusts, Jace crumpled onto Konnor, pushing in fully as he came. Moaning became possessive growling then dropped off to a contented purr. Konnor settled down once he sensed Jace was spent. "That," Konnor said, breathing hard between the words, "was extraordinarily hot." Jace rolled off to one side but stayed close. "Fuck, I needed that. Love you. And not only because you have the tightest, hottest ass on the planet and a mouth that drives me insane." A moment later he added, "Shit. What time is it? We need to get ready for work." "Do I look like Big Ben?" Flipping onto his back, Konnor glanced at the alarm clock and smacked his brother's belly hard with the palm of his hand. "We have plenty of time." Konnor shifted to get more comfortable and smirked. "Which is a good thing, since now I have to change the sheets."

Chapter Twelve Gennady took a rare day off, and he'd gone straight to bed with the rising of the sun. He hadn't set his alarm, vowing as he crawled beside Fallon to spend the entire day with him, as well as the coming weekend. Summer had always been Gennady's busiest season, work-wise. Small businesses in trouble, more often than not, failed during the first three months of the year. A bad Christmas season could knock the wind out of most any small retail or hospitality operation. By any given mid-summer, Gennady had already bought any local failures in order to turn them over, refurbished and ready to open, to any industrious supernatural willing to take on the responsibility. The humans weren't too thrilled about his partisan philanthropic pursuits, but he'd tried the other way too, years ago, before most of the humans now living in Salem were even born.

The businesses, almost without exception, folded again. Not so with the supernaturals. Like any immigrants to a foreign land they tended to work harder, smarter, and held on more fiercely to any shred of anything they could claim as their own. The approach had worked so far, up to and including the phenomenal success of Jace and Konnor's bar and nightclub establishment, Tailz. Gennady had five businesses all polished and ready to turn over to new supernatural owner-operators, but not now. He wanted the most effort required of him today applied to choosing which shirt to wear. He checked the clock—a few minutes after three. There were still quite a few hours left to decide what to do for fun with Fallon once the fallen sun allowed him to safely venture outdoors. He stretched and rolled over in the canopy bed to kiss Fallon good afternoon. But Fallon wasn't there. After the visions he'd had recently—he'd only copped to having one, but there'd been several—a momentary jolt of panic surged through him. His senses went into overdrive but immediately relaxed. He could hear Jace and Konnor horsing around together in the main bathroom's shower down the hall. If the twins were laughing, nothing could be wrong. "Get a grip on yourself, old man," Gennady chided as he hopped out of bed. "You've been working too hard." Gennady went to the walk-in closet and snagged a pair of jeans, and a T-shirt he'd hidden behind a suitcase. The white-on-black shirt declared DON'T YOU WISH YOUR BOYFRIEND WAS A FOX LIKE MINE? with musical notes and fox-shaped silhouettes surrounding the words. The custom-made garment had been delivered the day before, and Fallon hadn't seen it yet. Gennady laughed, knowing Fallon's fair cheeks would turn at least three shades of red. He slipped the shirt over his head and padded barefoot down the stairs, greeting his staff pleasantly along the way. As he passed each person they grinned, and some even chuckled aloud when they read his shirt's slogan. Gennady smiled. He had a good life here, the best, and he felt blessed to have Fallon Demeter to share it with him. Gennady stopped when he reached the kitchen. If Fallon wasn't in the bedroom, he could surely be found either in the kitchen munching, or possibly in the screening room playing a video game or watching a movie. Gennady greeted Ann, the second-shift cook, with a gentle smile. The stocky blond-haired woman with the deep-dimpled smile looked up from stirring the contents of a large pot. "Rest well, Gennady? I'm not used to seeing you trundle downstairs for

the first time so late in the day." "I rested well indeed, Ann. Thank you. Have you seen Fallon recently? He wasn't with me when I awoke." Ann stopped stirring. She cocked her head and seemed to study the ceiling. "You know, now that you mention it . . . I haven't seen him since I arrived. When Laura and I changed shifts, she told me she'd just seen him, and she'd made a point to tell the boy what I had planned for dinner." She resumed stirring the pot. "Curry chicken and Caribbean rice with pineapple, one of his favorites. Usually he'd have been in here driving me crazy by now for a taste. I guess he must still be outside romping around in the woods." A surge of blind panic ran through Gennady, and he tossed a quick, "Thank you, Ann," over his shoulder as he dashed from the room. He bolted up the stairs and peeked in the master bedroom in case Fallon had returned. Finding the room still empty, he tore up the steps to the third floor. The screening and billiard rooms—the latter containing Fallon's beloved fish tanks— were both deserted. Gennady yanked doors open right and left: unoccupied guest rooms, bathrooms, closets. Once back on the second floor he did the same. Nothing. He knocked on Jace and Konnor's door. He prayed they knew where Fallon had gone or had seen him more recently. After Gennady heard another round of laughter, Jace opened the door, his hair still wet from the shower. "Sorry . . . too noisy? We'll keep the racket down next—" "Have you seen Fallon?" Jace cocked his head and one horse-like ear—an obvious remnant of a stubborn transformation—pricked forward. "No, but I haven't been downstairs yet. Hey, Konnor?" He pulled the door open the rest of the way and looked inside toward his brother. "Did you see Fallon this morning when you got up?" "Yeah, we had breakfast together." Konnor slipped a white polo shirt with the colorful Tailz logo over his head. "He conned me into making waffles. But that was early this morning, Father. Is something wrong?" Gennady dragged his fingers nervously through his hair. "I woke up and he wasn't in bed. I checked the kitchen first. Ann told me Laura had spoken with him earlier, and he went outside to get some exercise." He looked at the alarm clock on the table next to the bed and winced. "That was hours ago. The entire house has been searched, and he's not here."

Jace looked at Konnor, and Konnor nodded. "We'll go out." Jace turned back to Gennady. "We'll start combing the woods. Father, can you call Tailz? Let Jane know what's happening, and see if she'll cover for us tonight, at least until we know Fallon is safe." Jace popped the snap on his jean shorts and dropped them to the ground, preparing to shift. A demon's hunting senses were far superior in their natural state, and if trouble had found Fallon, Jace would be more efficient bearing claws and fangs. Gennady fished his phone out of his pocket. Before he could dial, the phone began to chime. He read the caller ID and put the phone to his face. "Samantha, this isn't a good—" "This is important, Gennady," she interrupted. "Please hear me out." He detected the urgency in her voice, and he could tell she was smoking a cigarette. She only ever smoked if she was scared or extremely upset, so this wasn't a good sign. "Go ahead," he said, "but make it brief." Samantha exhaled a long breath. "I just got off the phone with Jericho. He's in Dubai, of all places, with some guy he met through a so-called supernatural pleasure broker. This guy apparently has a hard-on for vampires. To make a long story short, the vampire freak spilled about how he got hooked up. Mayor Lancer's allegedly involved. I don't know to what extent; my information at this point is sketchy at best. I have people investigating now, but I wanted to warn you before I head over to City Hall. Be careful, Gennady. I have a bad feeling about this. You know I've never liked that fat son of a bitch." Gennady felt what blood he had left in him dropping to his feet. He looked at Jace and Konnor with a pained expression, shaking his head. "Samantha . . . Fallon is missing." "I'll be right there." The line went dead. Gennady let his arm fall to his side, the phone clutched in his hand. "I don't care what you have to do," he said to Jace and Konnor in a quiet but fierce tone. "Find him."

Chapter Thirteen Fully transformed, Jace lumbered out of the house on all fours, nose to the ground and tail twitching. He flicked one ear back, confirming Konnor followed in human form. With his

claws digging into the earth, Jace wandered toward the carriage house and not four paces out, he stopped. "I found the scent. He did come out here." Fallon's small pile of clothing caught Jace's eye and he grunted. "Konnor, look." Konnor squatted to examine the clothing and they both spotted the paw prints. "Looks like he shifted and headed for the woods," Konnor said. "Don't go too far ahead of me. I'll stay like this in case we run into anyone. If we do, you hide and I'll do the talking." "I'm starting to feel guilty I didn't put more stock into Gennady's premonition." Jace pushed his nose into Fallon's clothing and drew in a deep breath. Nose full of Fallon's scent, he swung his bulk around and started for the woods. He caught the aromas from a small family of skunks and passed them by. He came to one particular spot and paused. "His scent is all over the place here." Konnor stood with his hands on his hips, turning to take a methodical survey of the landscape. "Nothing looks unusual or out of place, so I'm not—" He spotted a cluster of tracks near a small, dense thicket. Kneeling, he ran his fingers over the dusty soil. "Jace, there's more than one set of fox tracks here. Take a look." "There's a second scent trail, too." Jace approached Konnor. He examined the marks and followed where they led. "Damn . . . another werefox. Fallon and the other one shifted back and forth. See? Fox tracks and bare human footprints. Two sets each." "I knew I should've have come out with him," Konnor mumbled as he followed Jace through the tall grass. A police siren's wail splintered the air and came closer at high speed. "Sam's here. And look . . . the dual sets of fox tracks suddenly become spread much farther apart. They must've started running." With fear in his eyes, Konnor looked at Jace. "Where the hell could he have gone? And these other prints—I didn't know there were any other fox shifters in Salem, did you?" "Not that I've heard of. I think if this other werefox were registered, Sam would've told Fallon and made sure they met." Jace increased the pace, crashing through the grass to follow the trail. He stopped on a dime, his keen eyes scanning the ground. "Stop. Don't come over here, Konnor. The trail went cold." Jace backtracked several steps until he found where Fallon's last paw tracks ended and felt his skin crawl. "We need to get Sam out here, right now." Jace swiped his fingers along the flattened grass and came away sticky with coagulating blood.

Turning in the direction of the house, Konnor waved to Sam as she jogged toward them from the far side of a small clearing. "Gennady told me you were out here." Sam stopped to catch her breath once she caught up with them, and she pushed a few wisps of long, wayward brown hair away from her eyes. "Find anything?" Jace let out a terrible whine and raised his bloodstained fingers. "There are three distinct scents here, Sam. One is Fallon, the other is another werefox, and one is most certainly human." Sam snapped a latex glove onto her right hand and knelt, brushing her covered fingers through the clotted blood. She rubbed her fingertips together and gave them a sniff. "This blood isn't human—smells too sweet and not metallic enough." She looked up at Jace looming over her. "We lose a set of animal tracks here. One of them seems to have been carried from this point on. The tracks lead toward Willow Street." As she went to stand, something caught her attention. She took a few squatting steps and picked up a small, shiny object with a pair of tweezers. "Tranquilizer gun." Sam held up the spent syringe cartridge before dropping it into a small zip-lock bag. "Jace, go to the roadside and see if there's any trace evidence. Tire tracks, skid marks, more footprints, cigarette butts, candy wrappers, anything. Konnor and I will poke around out here for a little longer." Sam stood and snapped off the glove, meeting Jace's eyes. "I don't want to break the news to Gennady about this without you there." ***** Jace scoured the land between where Fallon had apparently been shot and the road, but he uncovered little and returned to the house at the appointed time. Having personally been the victim of an abduction of sorts, Jace wanted to remain as close to Konnor as possible in the presence of potential danger. The sun neared setting time and though that meant Gennady would soon be free to join them, it also made Jace painfully aware of how much of a head start Fallon's captors had on them. "All I found were some tire tracks that may or may not be from the vehicle that took him." Having shifted in the woods, Jace came toward Konnor and Sam on two legs. He scooped his clothes from the lawn and began to dress. "I did find a tuft of red fox fur." Sam rubbed her temples. "I've already called in the missing person report."

"We should tell Father now," Konnor said. "Listen." Jace's ears pricked up to the sound of police sirens screaming as squad car after squad car dispersed from the nearest station. Somber in a way he'd hoped to never feel again, he slipped an arm around Konnor's waist and kissed his cheek. Peace and safety seemed ever elusive. "We'll get him back, Konnor, I promise. And when I find out who did this, I swear I'll tear them apart."

Chapter Fourteen Several hours after his abduction, Fallon began to break through the tranquilizer haze. Blood pounded through his head like a herd of elephants playing kickball inside his brain. Opening his eyes didn't help—even the minimal light seeping in from the covered rear windows of the van seemed too much to bear. He rolled over, putting his back to the doors. Strange smells surrounded him. A crackly radio played somewhere close. Daring to open his eyes again, he saw long vertical rods in front of him—bars of a sturdy cage enclosing him. Panic tried to spark within his drug-fogged mind but couldn't firmly take hold. Movement caught his attention outside the cage. The vixen Misty woke up and rolled over in a fleece-lined dog bed. She whined and yowled as she morphed, obviously in pain, into her fully human form. With short-cropped red hair and freckles, the lanky teenager looked like the average girl next door except for her fox ears. Her transformation apparently completed, she sat on the floor of the truck, her back against the facing wall. With the drug still in his system, Fallon felt too disoriented to make a full change to his human form, but he attempted to shift enough to allow for speech. His body lengthened and his muzzle grew short, and outwardly that marked the point where his metamorphosis ceased. "Why did you do this to me?" Misty pulled an old blanket over her naked body, her clothing nowhere insight. She picked at raveling threads on the edge of the tattered quilt, averting her eyes. "I'm sorry." Her nose twitched. "I didn't have any choice. He won't feed me, and he'll maybe even kick me out on the street if I don't do what he says." She looked at him with sad, brown eyes. "Are you okay? I mean, considering?"

"This has to be a nightmare. Any moment I'm going to wake up. Any second Gennady will hear me struggling and shake me awake." Fallon closed his eyes. "My head hurts, and I'm so thirsty. Where are we going?" The truck hit a pothole and threw Fallon hard against the side of the cage. He yelped and curled into a tight ball, peeking over the raised fluff of his tail. "I don't know." Misty scooted across the floor of the truck on her knees, and she curled her fingers around the bars of the cage. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Camel-something Park. I think it's in Vermont, but I'm not sure. I was under the sofa when my master talked on the phone with his boss, so what he said sounded kind of muffled." She tightened her fingers on the bars until her pale knuckles turned even whiter. "I heard him say something about a fox hunt." Fallon looked shocked. "As in hunting me?" The part of his life he could clearly recall had been lived in the lap of luxury. Although aware Gennady had found him and rescued him from some dark tragedy, Fallon had forgotten most of the incident in the way people tended to forget their years before starting school. The idea of being hunted like a wild animal seemed incomprehensible to Fallon. "I want to go home. Please, Misty? Open the cage and the door and I'll jump out!" "I can't." Misty lifted the heavy padlock securing Fallon's prison and dropped it back to the bars with a clank. "I wish I could do something. I'm really sorry." She nibbled at her bottom lip. "You ought to try to get some rest. You're going to need all your strength once he lets you loose." His body shaking from equal parts of the drug and fear, Fallon regarded Misty for a long moment. "If I get out of this," he told her, "I'll find a way to free you, too." Misty cocked her head and stared at him, wide-eyed and stunned. "I don't understand." She worried at her lip again with her teeth and blinked watering eyes. "I helped him catch you. Why in the world would you want to help me?" Fallon pressed his short muzzle through the bars of his cage. "Because Gennady always says we are some of the lucky few, and we should always try and help those less fortunate. We all started off in a bad way, but we found one another and made life into something good. But I could've just as easily ended up in a situation like yours. It's not your fault, Misty. I don't blame you." He had the feeling no one had ever spoken to her with such kindness, and Fallon felt sick

at heart. When she blinked again, a fat tear trickled down her cute, freckled face. She curved her mouth into a crooked smile and rubbed her nose against his through the bars. "When he lets you go," Misty whispered, "you run like the wind, and I'll be right behind you."

Chapter Fifteen Gennady hung up the phone from speaking with Salem's police commissioner. Sam had already filed the missing person report, but Gennady called the department anyway and headed straight for the top. He offered funds for whatever resources they needed for the search: overtime, extra manpower from neighboring jurisdictions, expert trackers, helicopters. The inner back door opened as he returned the kitchen phone to the wall-mounted cradle. He looked at Samantha, Jace, and Konnor as they entered. "Tell me something good." Jace, now in his human form, looked first toward his brother and then to Sam. Neither seemed to know how to start. Jace took the lead and moved closer to Gennady. "He's been taken, Father, and we don't know by who or for what purpose. We tracked down the place where they took him and found a tranquilizer dart. There were tire tracks from multiple vehicles, and the small amount of blood we found appeared to be many hours old." Gennady felt a wave of horror wash over him, fear like he'd never felt before, a thousand terrible scenarios simultaneously assaulting his mind, each one worse than the last. He trembled, his hands balling into tight fists. Miraculously he didn't explode despite his insides seething like a long-dormant volcano ready to blow. He turned his attention to Samantha, who paced like a caged tiger. "Samantha," Gennady said, "I want to know exactly what Jericho told you." Samantha halted her pacing and leaned back against the refrigerator. "He's been working for some illegal outfit that's been brokering supernaturals as entertainment to rich humans with unusual tastes. Fang junkies with vampire sex fantasies, in his case." Sam rolled her eyes and shook her head in blatant disgust. "But that's not all these people are doing. They're also catering to men with domesticated witch fantasies." Sam put her index finger on the tip of her nose and gave a little wiggle. "Demons for religion-oriented fantasies. Jericho told me he isn't sure what

they're using were-folk for, but I can come up with two possibilities, only one of which could logically involve consent. The fucking Mayor is allegedly involved, although I'm not sure how. He's being questioned as we speak." Jace cleared his throat, demanding attention. "It struck me odd at the time, but the other night a middle-aged guy came into Tailz looking for information on where he could find Mayor Lancer. I didn't think anything of it, other than the guy must be dumb as a rock, so I told him how to find City Hall. He gave me a strange look, now that I think about it, almost like he was trying to see past my human form." Jace combed his fingers through his hair. "The human scent I caught with Fallon's on the trail—same guy. I'm almost positive." Gennady narrowed his eyes, his jaw set firm. "Samantha, I think you should be there to witness the interrogation first-hand. If the Mayor is implicated in this atrocity, God knows who else in the city administration might also be involved. Don't trust anyone." "I'm on it," Samantha said. "I'll get back here as soon as I can. Gennady, I'm worried about—" "Yes, I know." Gennady nodded toward the door. "And I appreciate your concern for me, but you're more valuable to me there than here right now." With no further comment, Samantha patted Jace on the shoulder and then Gennady, and she smiled at Konnor as she left the kitchen. The double set of front doors opened and closed again moments later. Gennady sagged against the wall. Silence ticked on for several minutes. Finally, with anger and pain apparent on his face, Jace spoke. "Gennady, the painting. My painting of Fallon." "I know." Gennady lowered his gaze to the floor. "I'm too frightened to look."

Chapter Sixteen Frank pulled the van off Interstate 89 in Waterbury a few miles short of Camel's Hump State Park and headed west on old River Road. The undercarriage bumped and rattled as he crossed over railroad tracks running perpendicular to the dusty, rock-strewn path. He hung a left on Camel's Hump Road on the eastern edge of the park. The van jolted and jostled as asphalt

gave way to gravel, then dirt, and finally mashed-down grass. He stopped when he could no longer squeeze the vehicle between the trees. The van's weight shifted momentarily to the left as he stepped onto the running board before hopping awkwardly to the ground. Winded from even that small exertion, he waddled his substantial girth toward the back of the vehicle, banging his fist against the side. He unlocked the door and shoved it upward. The black fox seemed frightened, dashing from one side to the other inside the sturdy cage. "Here, girly." Frank tossed a small plastic bag to Misty. "Get yourself decent." He grabbed the handrail on the back of the truck and hauled his bulk into the hold. Standing in front of the cage, he let his breathing return to some semblance of normalcy and the blood drain from his face before he spoke. "How are you doing there, little fella? Ready for some exercise?" ***** The big man practically blocked out the sun. Stunk, too, like someone who worked on a farm and never bathed. Fallon wrinkled his nose and backed into the farthest corner of the cage. Beyond his captor, Fallon could smell the fresh, clean scents of evergreen and wet grass. Ears flat against his head, he waited for his chance. Standing behind her master, Misty dressed in the clothes he'd given her—a worn pair of jeans at least a size too large and a huge T-shirt hanging to her knees. She lost her balance and bumped into the man as she stepped into the pants. She left the sneakers in the bag. Peeking out at Fallon from behind the man's considerable mass, Misty held up one hand and mouthed, "Wait for my signal!" A smirk crossed the man's rosy-cheeked face and he spat on the floor. "Like any vermin, you unnaturals ain't so big and bad when you're penned up like you belong." He pushed the cage to the edge of the van floor and clumsily climbed to the ground, landing with a loud groan. He looked at Misty. "You hang onto the back of the cage until I have a good grip, understand?" Misty squeaked a quick, "Yes, sir," and dropped to her knees behind the cage. She leaned close and stuck a finger between the bars to pet Fallon on the nose. "I stole the key when I bumped into him," Misty whispered to Fallon, smiling. "I'll open the padlock when he sets the cage on the ground, okay?"

Fallon gave her two slow blinks to let her know he understood. The cage slid closer to the edge of the van floor as the man pulled. Misty held on to the bars in the back. Each time the man tugged on his end of the cage, the whole thing rocked, tossing Fallon back and forth. He kept his eyes glued to Misty, waiting for her signal, wondering exactly where he'd go once the cage door opened. He had no idea where they were, but the man had driven for several hours straight and they were undoubtedly far from Salem by now. He wanted to shift, to be able to talk and ask questions, but he could run much faster and get in and out of small places easier as a fox. The man heaved the cage to the ground, and Misty hopped out of the van. She looked at Fallon then back at the big man. "Where are we, Master Frank?" Frank wiped his brow with the back of his dirty forearm. "Middle-of-fuckin'-nowhere, Vermont. Pretty, ain't it?" He unsnapped the group of fobs clipped to his belt and flipped through the keys. "Camel's Hump State Park. Look at the mountain over there and you can see where the name came from. Where the hell's the goddamn cage key?" Misty's nimble little fingers had the key turned in the lock and the cage open a split second later. "Fallon, go!" Fallon didn't move. Heart racing, he found his muscles wouldn't listen. Only a swift kick to the back of the cage from Misty sent him moving. Free of the steel bars and shaking like a leaf, Fallon ran as fast as he could. He ducked his head and escaped between the big man's legs, heading for the nearest patch of trees. Once inside the dense growth, Fallon spun around to look back toward Misty. Still in her human form, Misty's long legs had already closed half the distance between Frank and the trees when he pulled out a gun. Out of shape and overweight, Frank couldn't run, but his marksmanship remained accurate. The shot rang out, echoing through the hills, and the impact made Misty stumbled. Her right shoulder blade seemed to explode, but she scrambled back to her feet and took off. Frank ambled after her with an awkward sort of waddling gait, firing off shot after shot and shouting curses. "Fallon, get out of here!" Misty yelled, running fast despite her injury and less-thanefficient human form. Another shot rang out and splintered the trunk of a tree close to Fallon's head. He turned and bolted into the woods. Quick on his feet naturally, and with the drug burned out of his

system by multiple surges of adrenaline, the sounds of his captor's shouts and gunshots faded, replaced by the rapid booming of his heart. Fallon ran until the pads of his paws—accustomed to plush rugs and soft, manicured grass—became raw and bleeding. Deeper into the forest, the terrain began to take on an upward tilt. The mention of a mountain filtered back into Fallon's mind, and he continued on. After an hour or so, he couldn't walk another step. He dropped down wearily onto a patch of soft grass under a large tree. Every muscle ached. Pine tree pitch covered his beautiful black coat. His nose stung, scratched from scrambling through brambles, and his cheek bore a deep cut from a low-hanging branch. But in the worst shape was his heart. Fallon closed his eyes to rest, thinking of Gennady and home.

Chapter Seventeen Misty managed to hit the leading edge of the woods, but not before taking another shot in the back. Her shoulder screamed in pain. She stumbled another few yards before dropping to her knees and crawled behind a small outcropping of rocks. Straining her ears, she listened for Frank's heavy footsteps. None came, and she heard the van's old engine roar to life then fade into the distance. Apparently Frank had cut his losses and given her up. Tired and bleeding badly, she meandered through the woods following what scant signs Fallon had left behind. A partial paw print here, a tuft of fur snagged on a sticker bush there. After the longest time, she lifted her nose and found his scent. "Fallon? It's Misty. Are . . . are you here?" She didn't really have to ask; she could smell him. Misty sniffed the air again. She smelled roses, like the ones in the yard at Fallon's house, along with maple and vampire and a hint of some sort of berry, all clinging to the unique scent belonging only to Fallon. "Fallon? Frank didn't follow me; he left me here and drove off. I'm alone, I promise." Misty sat next to an old dogwood tree and leaned sideways against its short trunk. Her back didn't hurt any longer despite the two slugs she took, but she felt terribly sleepy all the sudden. The sound of Fallon's voice drifted to her on the wind. She heard him crunch, twolegged, through twigs and leaves until she caught sight of him.

"Misty, you got away! I'm so sorry I didn't wait." Misty took a deep breath and winced. "You're fast." She gave him a weak smile. "Good. I took a look around while Frank was busy unloading the cage, and I could see high-tension wires way off in the distance to the north. I think if you keep following them, you'll eventually hit civilization. Oh, ow!" Misty flinched, swallowed hard, and blinked. "Fallon, I'm so sorry . . . ." The change happened fluidly for her in a split second, and she had just enough strength left to rub her muzzle against tall Fallon's shin. She looked at him, her eyes feeling so heavy, and with her last breath Misty wagged her tail and smiled at him. Odd, she thought as she drifted away. Shifting hadn't hurt at all this time.

Chapter Eighteen Sam flipped her police lights on as soon as she left Gennady's driveway. She zoomed up Lafayette until she reached the fork, veering left to turn onto Washington. A quarter mile later, she pulled the black Malibu into the parking lot adjacent to the granite-and-brick city hall. She hurried inside, flashing her badge, ignoring the screeching alarm that sounded as her firearm set off the metal detector arch inside the front door. The rubber heels of her loafers felt sticky on the polished marble floors, and she came to a lurching halt outside the Mayor's office. Sam let herself into the anteroom and displayed her badge to the secretary. She pushed open the wide double doors and entered the office proper. The man Sam recognized as Kendall Norman, City Council President, snapped his cell phone closed and glared at her. "Don't you believe in knocking? Mayor Lancer still deserves his privacy despite this nonsense you've stirred up." Mayor Lancer stood, smiling like a cherubic Santa Claus, the picture of innocence. "Detective Wright. I'm so glad they sent you." Sam narrowed her eyes at that worm, Kendall Norman. She didn't know him well, but if Sam had a serious character flaw it was her reluctance to change her mind after a first impression. Her initial opinion of him hadn't been a good one. He'd grabbed her ass at a holiday function shortly after taking office, the ignorant prick. "I'm sorry, Mr. Norman," she said, "but this is official police business. I'm going to have

to ask you to wait outside." Kendall looked down his snobby, aristocratic nose at Sam then turned to the Mayor. "Harvey?" "I'm fine, Kendall. Thank you for keeping me company, but I can handle things from here." Mayor Lancer offered Sam a seat while he resumed his. He looked back toward Kendall and smiled. "I know you'll do the proper thing, Mr. Mayor." Kendall bowed politely. "Detective Wright." Sam remained standing and mustered a polite farewell nod. Once the slime ball left the room and closed the doors, she turned her full attention to the Mayor. "I don't have time to beat around the bush, Mayor Lancer. What the hell is going on? We have information from a reliable source that there's some shady business going on involving our special citizens. You've been heavily implicated." Mayor Lancer leaned back in his chair. "There are different degrees of shady, Detective Wright. I've done nothing that hasn't been requested. I assume you're referring to your boyfriend, the vampire. I don't recall his name offhand." "My boyfriend?" Sam made a disdainful grunt. "Yes, I'm referring to Jericho Zaitsev and yes, I know what he's been up to. He informed me earlier today. I'm asking you again, Mayor Lancer—what the hell do you have to do with these so-called pleasure brokers?" Harvey clucked his tongue and reached for his bright-colored candies. With his fingers buried in the dish, he paused as if he'd run out of gas. His unfocused gaze wandered to the ceiling. "I . . . I make money for the city." Sam's jaw nearly hit the carpet. "At the expense of an entire segment of our population? Jesus H. Christ!" She leaned on the edge of the Mayor's opulent antique desk—a new acquisition since her last visit—her palms smudging the shiny surface. Lowering her voice by quite a few decibels, she hissed her words out through clenched teeth. "Fallon Demeter—Gennady Zaitsev's partner—went missing this morning. We found blood and other unmistakable signs of foul play." A bead of sweat trickled down one of her temples. "If you know anything about this, Harvey, please tell me." "The fox kid? Yes, he's a cute one." Mayor Lancer continued to munch on candies as if

he hadn't a care in the world. "That wasn't something I soiled my own hands with, naturally, but I have an idea what might've happened." Sam fumed but she allowed him to keep talking. "A man called me a week ago," he said. "He'd heard about supernaturals doing things for money. The man offered me a boatload of cash to find him a werefox to truck out to the wilderness to hunt. I told him that wasn't possible, and he ended the call." He shrugged. "None of my concern if the man sought another supplier." Sam had seen a lot of horrible shit during her years on the force, and never once had she lost her lunch. Damn close right now, she swallowed back bitter bile. She swiped at her forehead with the sleeve of her jacket and blinked stinging sweat from eyes. "And you didn't feel like you should, oh, maybe report this to the Chief of Police? Jesus Christ, Harvey, are you high?" "Let me ask you something." Mayor Lancer leaned forward, folding his hands on his desk. "Have you noticed the sudden increase in the supernatural population in Salem? Of course you have—you work in the thick of them every day. My God, look around! This used to be a city of people, for people. Your friend Gennady Zaitsev has had supernaturals shipping in here lately like the fucking Irish during the potato famine! What about the people, Sam? The real, human people!" Sam took the handcuffs off her belt and moved beside Mayor Lancer's chair so fast he might've suspected she'd become a supernatural herself. Adrenaline surged through her, and she summoned every ounce of self-control she had not to bludgeon the man to death with his crystal candy dish right there on the spot. She hauled him out of the chair by the scruff of his collar, long hours at the gym paying off. She twisted his right arm sharply behind his back, clicked the cuff onto his wrist, yanked his left arm back and did the same. Pulling the small, white Miranda card from her inner blazer pocket, she began reading him his rights. "Harvey Lancer, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you . . . ." ***** Mammon watched from the window of his City Hall office as several cops loaded Mayor Lancer into the police car below, and he swirled his iced tea with a calm hand. He felt sure the police would be satisfied with the weight of Harvey's fall and wouldn't come after him, too.

Putting down his drink, he snatched his cell phone from his pocket and dialed. The phone on the other end rang twice before the call engaged. "Hello, Lady Fiona," Mammon said. "Today's mission has been accomplished." "Congratulations, Mr. Acting Mayor." Fiona's contralto voice fairly purred over the line. "I received a call not ten minutes ago from our man in Vermont. Gennady Zaitsev's little furball is about to get the run of his life. Everything is moving forward according to schedule." "Perfect," Mammon cooed. "Why don't you let me take you out for a drink tonight, so we can spend some of that two billion?" Fiona chuckled. "A drink sounds marvelous, darling."

Chapter Nineteen Jace sat in Gennady's chair in the study, a half-empty bottle of bourbon in one hand as he gazed at the painting he'd created of Fallon over a year ago. Enchantment laced the piece, borne of demon skill and magic, mingled with a dash of Fallon's true soul. So long as the painting remained safe, Fallon couldn't die by any means save extreme old age. He couldn't get sick, and even if he were horribly maimed, the bit of soul trapped inside the painting bound him to the world of the living. Those facts didn't make looking at the masterpiece any easier. Fallon could still feel pain and suffering. Someone could still lock him up and throw away the key. What once had been a beautiful young man—with fox ears pricked and tail curled as he stood under a cherry tree—had been replaced by a darker image. Woods allowing only scant streams of moonlight in surrounded a cowering form more fox than human. Fallon's eyes were rolled back white, his teeth bared, snarling at some invisible foe. The blood on Fallon's hands and smeared on his fur had sent Jace searching for the strongest bottle of liquor in the house. He stood and ran his fingers over the textured canvas of his handiwork. "We'll find you, Fallon. Don't give up." He took another swallow of booze and left the study in search of Gennady.

***** With the wireless phone clipped to his ear, Gennady paced the length of the longest stretch in the house. The second floor hallway spanned the entire width of the mansion, uninterrupted like the busy floor plan downstairs or the gabled-roof floor above. No oddly shaped rooms on this floor, nothing but the perfect squares and rectangles of bedrooms and bathrooms and closets. The hall ran left and right of the stairs a considerable distance in either direction. He paced with brisk steps, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, with stone-faced focus on his calls. Supply requisitions, personnel requests. He could've delegated these tasks to any number of people, but he needed something constructive to do in order to keep from coming unglued. Jace stopped at the top of the second floor landing and rested his chin on the polished wood banister, watching. Pace. Pace. Stop. Pace. Pace. Stop. On the fourth pass, Jace moved and closed the gap between them, grabbed the phone clip from Gennady's ear and embraced him with a fearsome strength not even a vampire could break. "I can't wait here any longer," Jace whispered into Gennady's ear. "I'm going to see Dekin. Maybe he can see something we can't." Gennady tensed, arms at his sides, stiff and emotionless and in control. The alternative wasn't acceptable, not to mention dangerous for anyone around. "That happens to be the call you interrupted. He's on his way over here now." "Oh." Jace loosened his grip. "Sorry, Father. I should've known you would think of him. I was in your study looking at the painting and realized Dekin might be of help." Leaning back against the wall, Gennady's gaze shifted to the floor. "It will work, Jace, right? The painting?" "It worked for the angel Kelly and—" Jace scratched at the back of his head. "Kelly is the only one I've ever kept in touch with long enough to witness the painting's ability, but I painted Fallon's with the same . . . um . . . procedure. This portrait should also do the trick." "Dekin's Kelly? I had no idea. How do you know the magic worked? Has his life been endangered since?"

Jace looked suddenly uncomfortable. "Well . . . sort of. The painting had barely dried and Kelly came to me, asking me to help him fall. I painted him with his beautiful scarlet wings extended." Jace cleared his throat. "Even though I obliged him and snapped his wings off, they grew back as perfect as before. The painting changes appearance to reflect the current state of the subject. When Kelly's wings were broken, the painting changed to match, but soon the wings grew back on both the image and on Kelly." Gennady braced for the worst. "How does Fallon look?" "He's okay, at least so far," Jace said. "Scared and someplace dark, and a little banged up, but very much in one piece and out in the open." "We went to bed this morning, no different than any other." Gennady forced out a heavy sigh. "I don't want to see this, Jace, but I have to—I owe him that. It's not fair for me to sit here in this big, safe house with all of you while he's out there so frightened and alone." The walk to the study seemed like the longest walk of his life, but Gennady didn't hesitate when he arrived at the door. He entered, his eyes going straight to the painting. He clenched his fists at his sides. "This is a powerful gift you have, Jace." Jace's voice sounded smaller and meeker than Gennady had ever heard. "I know. And I've never been more afraid of it."

Chapter Twenty Cold droplets splattered Fallon's cheek as the skies opened to a brisk summer rain. After running for hours through the untamed woods of the Camel's Hump mountainside, he'd reached a plateau and fallen asleep underneath a crop of pine trees. He shifted to a halfway form of human and fox in order to use the best attributes of both: the keen hearing and agility of the fox, the sharp eyesight and opposable thumbs of a human. Another raindrop hit him, and his narrow muzzle twitched as he brought up a clawed hand to swipe at the disturbance. Another droplet fell on his ear, and yet another splashed his nose. Fallon sneezed. He rolled over, seeking the warmth and protection of Gennady's arms, and instead rolled into a pile of sharp pine needles. Fear jolted him, and he sat bolt upright to find his dreamy illusion of home shattered. The events of the previous day came rushing back. Night had fallen, and the woods

resounded with a symphony of local wildlife, but that wasn't what worried him. He could manage well enough against the stray badger or skunk, and even bears were less likely to attack if he managed to shift to full fox fast enough. Misty's words about being hunted made Fallon's heart race. After the poor vixen had died, Fallon stroked her rusty-red fur and sobbed over her body. For a while he held her, but as darkness closed in around the woods and her lifeless body grew cold and stiff, Fallon needed to move on. He buried her under the dogwood where she'd found him, and he decorated the ground with pretty stones and flower petals before saying his final goodbye and heading north. He did his best to hold the course along the high-tension wires as she'd suggested, but a rising thirst sent him off the path. Raised in a house with only relatively small acreage had atrophied his natural sense of direction and instinct for survival. Back on four paws and wandering, he could hear the rush of water not too far off— perhaps a brook brought into existence by the sudden downpour—and he headed in the direction of the sound. If he followed the running water, he could at least be sure he wasn't going in circles. No more than five minutes of walking at a leisurely pace brought him to a break in the heavy underbrush and alongside the brook. Fallon stepped onto the bank, his dainty fox paws sinking into soft mud. The water tasted clean and felt cold on his parched throat as he craned his neck down and lapped at the surface. It felt like a week since breakfast with Konnor, even though less than a full day had passed, and the water helped fill his belly and stave off hunger pangs. Without warning the wind shifted and smacked his nose with an odd scent. Startled, he lifted his head and scanned both sides of the brook. A gray-striped cat with a broad head and long whiskers stepped out from the brush on the far bank, seeming curious but cautious. The cat cocked its head to one side, amber eyes staring at Fallon openly and unafraid. Much larger than any housecat Fallon had ever seen, the mysterious creature came closer to the water on the opposite bank. Fallon froze. He felt relief to see the new arrival wasn't a human with a gun, but the stocky cat had its lips curled back and fangs bared. With his tail between his legs and his ears flicked back, Fallon watched as the cat reached

the water's edge of the narrow brook. He assumed a cat wouldn't dare cross and risk getting wet, so he stood his ground. With what amounted to a mischievous smile on its face, the sturdy-looking feline swatted the water's surface with a big, broad paw, splashing hard enough to get Fallon wet. Shocked, Fallon's jaw dropped and water trickled off his pointy face. Although already wet from the rain, the splash further dampened his spirits. Fallon hung his head and made a small, whimpering sound exclaiming to the cat it couldn't possibly make matters any worse. For the first time since his ordeal began, Fallon felt truly despondent and wanted to cry. "Hey," came a soft, lilting voice. Once again startled out of his wits, Fallon snapped his head up and looked around. On the other bank—in the exact spot where the cat had been—there now was a young man not much younger than Fallon, sitting cross-legged on a patch of grass. A shake of wavy, gray hair with dark brown stripes sent rainwater flying outward. "Why so sad?" The young man grinned and slapped the brook with the palm of his hand. "It's only water." Fallon wasn't sure why finding another were-animal so far out in the woods seemed so shocking. Though he'd always lived in a house, there were many who chose to listen to their more primal side and roam the open spaces. Gathering his hind legs under him, Fallon jumped the brook and shifted mid-leap into human form. "It's not the water." He squatted a few feet away. "I don't belong here. I'm lost." "Sorry to hear that." The young man picked up a stick and poked at the wet, sandy soil. "My name's Casey. Casey Jenkins. I'm a werelynx, as you may have guessed. How'd you end up way out here?" Casey sniffed the air. "You smell like a city boy to me." He wrinkled his nose and sniffed again. "Soap and cooked food and people." "I'm Fallon Demeter. I'm from Salem, Massachusetts, so I guess that does make me a city kid." Tail wrapped around his hip, Fallon tugged on the furry white tip with nervous hands. "I was kidnapped from there and dumped here. I'm not sure by who or why exactly, but I might have a hunter after me. I want to go home." He looked at Casey with hope. "Do you know where I can find a phone? I'll even settle for a highway." "Go in any direction and you'll get to a road eventually." Casey tossed the stick in the water and looked at Fallon. In the same way Fallon's tail didn't disappear when he adopted his human form, Casey's eyes hadn't changed. The irises were amber flecked with green, and he had

black, vertical slits for pupils. A few times the moonlight hit his eyes just right and the translucent nictitating membranes became visible as they flashed sideways and back—a lynx's natural third eyelid. "How come you got a hunter on your tail? You do somethin' wrong?" "No, I haven't!" Rising, Fallon began pacing the bank, fighting exhaustion and anxiety, trying not to burst into tears. His thoughts went to Gennady and the nightmarish vision. How he wished he'd taken the warning more seriously! Now, he could only hope his family would discover his whereabouts and come for him before something truly awful happened. The rain, at least, had begun to taper off. "I should move on. If I do have someone chasing me, you'll be in danger, too. Do you know which way will take me to the nearest road?" "North is probably your best bet." Casey stood and jerked his chin over one shoulder. "Not as short as south or west, but the terrain's a lot rougher. Harder for human's to trek and track. Easier for you to slip away." Casey smiled. "I'll help you out. I've done this a bunch of times. I'm practically an old pro." "If you're sure, I'd be grateful. I've only been out here a few hours, and I already feel helpless." Fallon looked in the direction Casey had indicated. The dense forest seemed daunting, but he had to remember he'd have the advantage over a human in such a harsh environment. "North. That's the direction Misty told me I should go." "Little red vixen Misty?" Casey snorted as he headed into the trees. "She's usually still with you guys this far in. What happened?" Fallon stopped dead in his tracks. "You know Misty?" Hot and cold rushed through him as pieces of the mystery unraveled. Fallon dropped his gaze to the muddy bank. "She tried to help me escape. Her master"—Fallon spat on the ground, the word tasting foul on his tongue —"shot her after she let me out of the cage and tried to catch up with me. She's dead. I buried her." "Damn, that's a shame. Glad to hear she finally grew a conscience, at any rate." Casey took a few more steps toward the trees, but when the wind suddenly shifted he came to an abrupt halt. He held up a stilling hand to Fallon while he sniffed at the breeze, and he lowered his voice to a whisper. "He's here. Can you shift without making any noise?" "Yes," Fallon whispered. "Casey, how many others have there been? Have you helped them all escape?" "C'mon." Casey grabbed Fallon by the hand and dragged him into the trees, moving at a

quick but quiet clip. He seemed to know the forest well. When they circled downwind, Casey stopped again. "You're the second one this month already. Seven last month, and there were six the month before. Can't even count how many before that. I lost the first one who came through, but I got better at this real quick. I'll get you out of here, no worries, but you have to do what I say. Okay?" "Okay." Fallon wished he'd been more careful about concealing his tracks. A twig snapped somewhere near the brook. Wide-eyed, Fallon shifted into fox form, ready to run. Casey looked at him and chuckled. "You know, you're kind of cute for a boy. Follow close, and don't stop until I do, not for anything. Ready?" Fallon snorted, ears pricked up and on alert. As Casey in lynx form traveled through the woods, Fallon followed with ease. Every time he thought they'd eluded the hunter for sure, Fallon would catch a whiff or a stray sound informing him otherwise.

Chapter Twenty-One "I fucking hate this waiting!" Jace cursed and began to pace, his tail lashing about like an angry snake. Sariel sighed. "Jace, please . . . I know how difficult this is, but for the sake of the rest of us, could you please sit? Cursing and carrying on is not going to bring us any closer to finding Fallon, and you're upsetting your brother." Jace scowled and threw Sariel a nasty look, but a glance at Konnor's face brought him down off his steamroller in a hurry. "All right, I know. I know! But of all of us, Fallon is the frailest, the most innocent. Knowing he's out there somewhere all alone is killing me." "Come here." Konnor grabbed Jace's tail, gave a hard tug and pulled his twin sidesaddle onto his lap. "Sariel's right—you need to chill out. Dekin will be here soon, and then maybe we'll have something better to go on." Jace curled up against Konnor's chest, and Sariel wondered how two creatures designed to inflict evil on the world had turned out so sweet. He realized in the same breath that the close bond they shared as identical twins, coupled with their harsh start, kept them from pursuing a typical demonic agenda. Together, Jace and Konnor were relatively peaceful. But take one away,

Sariel felt certain, and the world would pay a hefty price. He shivered to think how close the world had come to that so recently. "As much as I'm not a fan of drinking to ease your problems, I think this qualifies as an exception." Sariel went to the refrigerator and grabbed two domestic beers. He paused then grabbed a third. He unscrewed the cap off one and handed the bottle to Konnor. The doorbell chimed. Konnor accepted the beer and slid his other arm tighter around Jace. "Do you mind getting the door, Sariel? If I let him up, I might not get him to sit back down again." "Not at all." Sariel hurried through the house to answer the front door. Being nighttime, the need to go through the daytime protocol of sealing off the vestibule between the doors to protect any vampires on the premises was waived. Dekin Swain, the blond-haired incubus demon, stood on the front porch. "We're all so glad you could come tonight, Dekin," Sariel said. "Please, come in." Dekin smiled, revealing pointed canine teeth. He preferred style to practicality, but tonight he'd managed both. Stylish as usual, in an eclectic, borderline eccentric sort of way, he wore cobalt-blue silk drawstring pants and a Gothic tail shirt made entirely of black lace. "The rise of abductions in the last year is appalling, Sariel. I can imagine Gennady's pain—I know how I would feel if my Kelly had been the one taken." "There's a reason, I'm afraid." Sariel escorted Dekin into the house and shut the doors. "Our esteemed Mayor has been selling secrets. For all we know, he was the one who alerted the Banks boys of Jace and Konnor's whereabouts some months ago." Dekin narrowed his violet eyes. "Mayor Lancer? How dreadful." White as a sheet, Gennady stepped into the spacious foyer, his appearance further washed out from the white linen kimono he wore. He glanced back over his shoulder into his study before closing the door. Sariel could see Fallon's image in the portrait at least looked dry now. "Thank you for coming, Dekin." Gennady have a courteous bow. Dekin returned the gesture. "We must band together, Gennady. I have much to discuss with you, but all else can wait. We need to learn whatever we can about Fallon's captor and whereabouts. A location heavy with Fallon's aura will work best." Gennady re-opened the door to his study and gestured Dekin inside. He looked at Sariel. "Keep the twins out of trouble for me, would you?"

***** As Dekin entered the study, his eyes were drawn at once to the painting high on the wall behind Gennady's desk. His heart skipped a beat, not only because of the state Fallon appeared to be in, but because Dekin had commissioned a similar painting of his lover, Kelly. He knew firsthand the power of the living canvas. The image of Fallon in the painting looked bruised and dirty. He had a cut along one cheek but seemed alert. He appeared to be following the shadow of an animal running ahead of him. "He's not confined." Dekin offered Gennady a hopeful smile. "That's a good start." Gennady took a seat in an easy chair and tucked his legs underneath him, his arms folded across his chest. "Whatever insight you can give us will be most appreciated. Fallon's trail went cold on the far side of our property, and we have no idea where to look." Brown eyes sunken into dark sockets looked pleadingly at Dekin. "He's so frightened, and I don't need a magical painting to tell me so. I can feel him." "Another good sign. You and he share a bond more tightly woven than I have seen in centuries. That you continue to sense his life force should give you comfort." Dekin rested a sympathetic hand on Gennady's shoulder. "I cannot promise you anything more than my best, but sometimes even that yields little. If Fallon has been placed behind a magical shield the cards will be of no help." After giving Gennady's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, Dekin pulled a guest chair closer to the desk, in order to allow the cards to be presented in plain view of the painting. He extracted a cream-colored, velvet pouch from his pants pocket and removed his most powerful deck of tarot. "Come close, my friend." Gennady moved to the other guest chair facing his desk and scooted nearer. He gazed at the painting then looked at Dekin. "What do you need me to do?" "I need for you to call on your link with Fallon and hold on for as long as you are able. I must confess . . . what I am about to do no doubt violates at least half a dozen Department of Special Enforcement statutes. This is not one of the typical parlor tricks I perform for gullible human tourists at my shop." "I don't care about the law, Dekin." Gennady's tone carried conviction. "I want him home

by whatever means necessary." He gestured toward a small, stuffed plushie fox sitting on one corner of the desk, the toy's red fur worn shabby and faded. "He's had that since he was five years old—my first Christmas present to him. To this day he still sleeps with the poor old thing when I'm away from home on business." Dekin's throat tightened at the resonating sound of Gennady's grief. "He has a strong soul, and he's likely calling out for you extremely hard in his thoughts. We'll find him." He carefully placed the little stuffed fox, along with several other small objects extracted from his velvet pouch, in a circle on the desk: an amethyst shard, a red candle, a compass, and a pad of paper. After lighting the candle, he pushed the pad of paper toward Gennady. "When I indicate, I will need you to write." The old tarot deck shuffled easily, the surface of the cards worn smooth, the hand-drawn pictures dulled with age. Dekin used this particular deck only with other supernatural beings and only when the situation dictated strong magic. When content with the flow of power coursing through the cards, he held the stack out to Gennady. "Draw five cards and place them face down on the desk." ***** Once he laid out the cards, Gennady plucked a shiny gold pen from a holder. Even that mundane object held a pertinent memory for him. He couldn't count the number of times he'd found the pen stored with myriad other objects in one of Fallon's endless, hidden stashes of pilfered trinkets. Dekin focused, and the violet color of his irises became the color of luminescent gold. He tapped the first card with two well-manicured fingers. "Normally I would pull ten cards, but where both the person and situation are well known, I find such measures excessive and unnecessary. This first card will be for Fallon, to tell us of his condition." He flipped the card over, revealing the Nine of Wands. The artwork depicted a wolf caged in by nine spears, each blade dripping red with blood. Gennady couldn't ascertain the significance and gave Dekin a sheepish shrug. "I'm embarrassed to say I'm not at all well versed in the magical arts." "The card foretells of a great test of strength. The caged wolf, noble prince of the woods,

must now show his heart and risk all to escape his captor." Dekin set the card aside. "Fallon is used to a comfortable life. Every advantage has been provided to him since you took him in. Now, he is forced to survive in a foreign environment without those on whose guidance and protection he depends. The situation will test him; he will experience confusion and self-doubt, but he is strong and unlikely to give up." Dekin flipped over the second card. "This card—the Knight of Cups—tells of deception. This could denote a trick already played upon Fallon in order to spirit him away. However, because this card is meant to represent your situation, Gennady, I am inclined to interpret this as indication of a yet undiscovered viper in hiding, waiting to strike out at you. Be careful of those around you, my friend." Gennady twirled the gold pen between his fingers. "I've already closed my circle to but a handful. If I can't trust them, there's little hope for any of us. Please continue." Dekin turned the next card. His jaw clenched. The upside-down card depicted a vulture, wings spread, talons embedded into a small representation of planet Earth. "The King of Swords, reversed—domination and mastery. This card represents the individual responsible for Fallon's pain. He will be a man of much wealth and power. He is someone who has lost his way and nothing excites him any longer. He is forever looking for the next great thrill." Dekin took the amethyst shard and placed the crystal upright in the center of the card. An image materialized, reflected in the smooth, polished surface. "This man is responsible for Fallon's current predicament." Gennady leaned forward to take a better look at the crystal. The closer he got, the clearer the image became of a dark-haired man in his mid-forties, possessing a gaunt, angular face sporting a two-day-old beard. The man wore an Australian bush hat made of leather, with the right side of the brim rolled tightly against the crown. Gennady pushed back abruptly from the desk, his eyes darting to Fallon's portrait and back to Dekin. "I know this man." Dekin nodded, his exterior consistently calm. "I thought you might. Now, keep your angry energy inside and focus; we aren't quite finished yet." He flipped the fourth card over to face up. A werecat of some sort greeted them, standing upright on its hind legs. "Interesting. As the card before represented an individual hell bent on hurting Fallon, so this card represents Fallon's best chance of survival. Strength is his name, and he will be generous with his aid. This may be the shadowy figure Fallon follows in the portrait."

Gennady twiddled the pen nervously between his fingers. "What does the last card say?" "This represents the ultimate outcome for the future." Dekin turned the card over to reveal an angel and a demon holding hands, and he let out a relieved-sounding sigh. "The Lovers. Not only does this card represent a perfect union of love, but having the card appear at the end of the reading tells me—even as hard as things seem now coupled with the tribulations yet to come—this ordeal will have a happy ending. You will have to make difficult decisions, but your love and the harmony you keep around you will ultimately triumph." Dekin gathered the used cards and placed the compass over them. "Place your hand over the compass, Gennady. Close your eyes and clear your mind, and begin to write. The compass will guide your hand and tell you the path the pen should take." The relief Gennady experienced over the news delivered by the final card hadn't been enough to cancel out the horror of the third. The man whose image reflected off the amethyst crystal wasn't a man at all. Gennady had met oil baron Charles Carrington eighteen years prior, at an energy symposium in Canada, two days before he'd come across the car wreck where he found little Fallon Demeter. Carrington had seemed antsy and distracted the entire week, even more so toward the end, and he'd left the conference a day early with the excuse of a sudden illness. He missed the final bidding round due to his early departure, and although already an extraordinarily wealthy man, the loss of a couple billion dollars wasn't insignificant. On the other hand, Gennady had made out like a bandit, capitalizing on Carrington's misfortunes. They'd been on bad terms ever since, even though Gennady had remained quiet to this day regarding his knowledge of Carrington's supposed malady. Money in sums such as Gennady possessed could purchase a wealth of information. Trembling, Gennady held his hand above the compass. He closed his eyes. His fingers, death-gripping the pen, started scrawling of their own volition. After several minutes passed, a strange sense of completion flooded him and Gennady set down the pen. He opened his eyes to study the paper. "I have no idea what this means."

"A former lover of mine was a cartographer." Dekin cocked his head and smiled. "I do believe these are latitude and longitude coordinates, perhaps meant to give us a place to begin the search." "My God, I think you're right. But what compelled me to write in such a strange formation?" Gennady nearly toppled his chair over in his haste to get to his computer. Once seated, he clicked on a desktop icon as Dekin came to stand as his side. "This is the U.S. Naval Observatory's website. Accurate sun and moon rise and set times, anywhere in the world, for any date." He smiled at Dekin. "A handy tool for a vampire and his werefox companion." Gennady snatched the paper and punched the coordinates into the appropriate fields on the screen. He clicked on GET DATA and the results immediately appeared. Longitude: W72.9, Latitude: N44.4 Bolton, Chittenden County, Vermont Gennady gasped, terror charging every cell in his body. "I know where he is, Dekin, and why. Please find Jace and Konnor and tell them I need to see them now." ***** "My legs are falling asleep." Konnor grunted and tried to shift Jace on his lap. "Turn around or something."

Jace had his back pressed to Konnor's chest, desperately trying to self-entertain with bottle cap hockey—a one-player game, with Jace flicking the cap repeatedly across the kitchen table into Sariel's hip. Sariel moved, apparently fed up with being the object of target practice, and the bottle cap went sailing off the kitchen table and under the stove. "Hey!" Jace frowned. Sariel smirked. "I guess you need to get up and get another beer." "Hey, Sariel," Jace purred, walking to the refrigerator. "Why don't you go over there and let my brother show you why demons make the best angel-lovers?" "I see you've not changed one iota, Jace Barton." Dekin strode into the kitchen with Gennady, the former's eyes full of mischief as he stole Jace's new beer and took a sip. "Not as good as wine, but on an evening such as this, any alcohol will do." Gennady laid a map on the table. "If I could have everyone's attention, please." Once everyone settled down, Gennady broke the news, his dark brown eyes barely discernible from the sad, shadowed hollows they'd faded into. He pointed to the center of the map. "Thanks to Dekin's reading, we believe Fallon may be somewhere in this area—Camel's Hump State Park, in the vicinity of Bolton, Vermont. A three-and-a-half hour drive, give or take a few minutes." Gennady shifted his eyes to Jace and offered a small smile. "Two-and-a-half, the way you drive." Jace returned the smile then examined the map. Vermont had many undeveloped regions, and the area around Camel's Hump looked about as desolate as they came. At an elevation of 4,083 feet, the primary peak of the namesake park was one of the oldest mountains on the planet. "Shit." Jace grimaced. "Over twenty-thousand acres. When we find Fallon, I'm taking him to the vet and getting him chipped." Visibly cringing, Konnor kicked Jace in the shin under the table and shot him a shut up glare. "If I were dumping someone in the woods," Konnor said, "I'd go in here." He pointed to the eastern section of the park where Camel's Hump Road dead-ended. "This area is accessible, yet hidden from the main highway." Konnor scrunched his nose in thought. "We'll need radio communication." Jace rubbed his aching shin. "Konnor and I can tackle ground duty. In our natural form, we're better than hound dogs at tracking."

Dekin looked at Jace. "I have reason to suspect you won't be alone out there. Fallon is flanked by both enemy and ally." "Do whatever it takes," Gennady said in a quiet, tired voice, "but please be careful. The hunter is a werewolf; he's crazy, and he hates me with a passion. I'm not certain he realizes whom he's hunting, but if he does I'm afraid even Jace's painting won't be of much help. The grudge he holds against me runs long and deep." Gennady moved toward the kitchen doorway, gripping his arms around his torso in a tight self-hug. He paused at the threshold and looked over his shoulder. Jace didn't recall ever having seen him look so distraught. "I desperately need to feed," Gennady said. "Someone, please see who's available. You know where I'll be."

Part II — Then Chapter Twenty-Two Eighteen Years Ago . . . The perfection of snow-covered farmland stretched out for miles under the indigo sky, broken only by an occasional shadow from a house, a barn, a wooden fence. A thick blanket of white made silver by the full moon covered the roads. Vermont in February—brutal yet beautiful. All the local radio stations had warned of the storm, telling people to stay snug in their homes unless absolute necessity dictated venturing out to brave the icy conditions. For those deep in the mountains, there would be little traveling anywhere for the upcoming week. Plows were expensive and Vermont roads were long, vicious monsters coiling endlessly around steep hills and mountains. Smoke rose from a gnarled form on the side of I-89, dark tendrils reaching toward the full disk of the low-hanging full moon. The little red Subaru had been no match for the sudden impact that sent the vehicle careening out of control. No one saw as the car spun out and skidded hard and fast off the road into the line of trees. No one witnessed the scene immediately after the

crash, of the huge, snarling creature tearing through the wreckage. ***** Gennady slipped another CD into the car stereo and adjusted the volume. He had a guiltypleasure penchant for Andrew Lloyd Weber musicals, and he'd already been through Cats since leaving Montréal almost three hours earlier. Now, the London Symphony Orchestra played the eerie opening strains of the Jesus Christ, Superstar overture through the Jaguar's high-powered speakers. Eyes glued to the road—or what served as the road at this point, the asphalt having been covered by several inches of snow—he hummed along with the music, and then sang along once the overture ended and Heaven On Their Minds stressed the woofers. The Alternative Energy Conference had been exhausting but worthwhile, and Gennady stood to add a considerable amount of wealth to his vast fortune as a result of the bids he'd made. Tired but fulfilled, he looked forward to his arrival home. A few bars into Judas's solo, Gennady tapped on the brakes. Something wasn't right. Small hairs prickling upright on the back of his neck were the first indication, and he went on high alert. The accuracy of his danger-sense gained confirmation moments later, as he crawled the silver sedan to a halt on the shoulder of I-89. He'd passed a sign for Camel's Hump State Park a few miles back, and by the looks of the surroundings he was now on the fringe of the forest. He opened the door and hopped out of the car, the sharp scent of smoke and gasoline assaulting his sensitive nose. Between the full moon and the clean snow, the area glowed like a stadium, and vampire vision wasn't required to see the small red car wedged in the trees. Tilting an ear toward the scene, Gennady homed in on the sounds coming from the edge of the heavily forested state park. From the direction of the crashed vehicle came the dripping noise of leaking fuel and the hiss of a radiator about to blow. A muffled, whining sound wove through the engine's death throes. Someone's still alive. Gennady scrambled down the snowy embankment, and as a highpitched whistle pierced the night, the hood of the car popped open with a shotgun-like bang. A sharp, fearful cry echoed the thunderous noise. Electricity snapped and popped, filling the frigid air with the smell of ozone to join the powerful stench of gasoline. Each loud spark

made the passenger in the crushed car whimper louder. Gennady skidded to a stop, his feet nearly slipping out from under him as he plowed into the side of the car. For fear of the vehicle bursting into flames, he moved fast to recover his footing, and he brushed accumulated snow from the driver's side window. He pulled back in horror, shocked at the grisly scene greeting his eyes. What remained of the driver could be buried in a Sucrets box or a sardine tin. Blood had spattered everywhere: on the seats, the dashboard, the windows. Shreds of clothing were strewn about, their color indeterminate because of the massive amount of blood. Some scraps of flesh and a few strands of long, black hair stuck out of the shattered, spider-webbed windshield. Gennady stood stock-still and listened to the night. Something lurked out there, a creature strong and hungry enough to leave precious little of the driver behind. Something smart enough to close the door before leaving the scene, as the dome light might've drawn attention to the wreck from cars passing by with human drivers. He sniffed the air. A sound came from the back seat, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up again. Gennady pushed the snow off the rear driver's side window and peered inside. A small, furry black face peeked back at him. Before he could act, the little animal began burrowing underneath the driver's seat. The entire car had buckled in the crash, pushing the floorboards up at odd angles. What should've been a wide space looked cramped and tight, making any escape tough. A white-tipped tail stuck straight out as the terrified animal struggled to find room, trying to cram its body into the impossibly small space. Steam rose from the snow around the front of the car as the demolished engine overheated. Fire seemed imminent, perhaps even an explosion. He tried both rear doors, which were buckled inward and wouldn't readily open, but Gennady had no desire to climb through the bloody muck in front. He gripped the handle of the rear door and pulled until the metal drew away from the bent frame. Slipping his fingers into the gap, he bore down, gathered all his considerable strength and successfully pried the door off. With a yelp and a squeak the tiny creature tried harder to dig under the seat, but to no avail. Gennady tossed the ravaged door into a snowdrift, grabbed the furry black tail by the base and yanked the little animal into his arms. The furball screeched in terror, and the needle-sharp teeth of a tiny fox snapped down on Gennady's hand, breaking the skin. The fox let go, only to shriek again and attempt another bite. Gennady shifted the fox in his arms, grasping firmly under its forearms, and he held the small

animal away from his body. He needed to see its eyes. Something felt off about this situation, and Gennady wanted to confirm his brewing suspicion as correct. He held the animal at nose level. "Let's take a look at you." The fox continued to cry, its back legs drawing up in an attempt to kick Gennady, but the exertion only served to tire out the furry bundle. Exhausted, the fight went out of the poor thing and it hung limp, meeting Gennady's gaze. Its blue-gray eyes reflected the trauma of the evening with frightening, human intelligence, and Gennady had no doubt those pretty eyes were studying him. Werefox. Gennady smiled. "I thought so." The car's engine sputtered and spat, and smoke billowed. The thick, greasy fumes made the fox kit sneeze. Gennady backed away from the wreckage. "We need to get out of here, little one." He tucked the young fox under one arm, balancing with the other as he climbed the treacherous embankment. With precious little time left, he jumped into his car, tossing the poor fox onto the passenger seat. Gennady started the engine, and the Jaguar had no sooner fishtailed back onto the icy road than the compact car exploded and burst into flames.

Chapter Twenty-Three The storm had gotten progressively worse, and an hour's drive had only taken Gennady and his passenger another twenty miles down the road. Gennady checked the Jaguar's console clock. The amber numbers glowed 2:04 in the morning, and his worries multiplied. Under ordinary circumstances, the trip from Montréal to Salem would've taken less than six hours. With the nights so long in early February, he would've arrived home with at least four hours of sunless sky to spare. But tonight had been far from ordinary—first the snowstorm, then happening upon the wrecked car and its tiny passenger. No way would he make Salem by sunrise. Rather than taking the risk of becoming stranded outdoors along the way, he decided to stop at the first lodging he came across. Of course, he'd have to remain there for the entire day until the sun fell below the horizon again, but

a warm, cozy room seemed far preferable to spending the day in a freezing cave or the specially sealed trunk of his car. In addition, he had more than his own comfort to consider at the moment. He glanced at the fox, its small form curled into a tight, shivering ball. Its eyes were closed, but Gennady sensed the youngster feigned sleep; the little body seemed far too tense. A suitable lodging choice eventually materialized and Gennady brought the Jaguar to a halt. The fox lifted its head in surprise, the furry body growing stiff with fear. Smiling, Gennady reached one hand out to the fox, palm up. "I'm not going to hurt you. We have to get out of this storm, and this place looks nice." He pointed toward the old, wellmaintained Victorian painted pink and blue, fronted by a sign cheerfully announcing Betsy's Bed & Breakfast. "I'm going inside to get us a room. Do you want to come with me now, or should I come back for you after I've paid?" The fox's ears flicked forward and back. Still obviously tense, it got up and tottered over to the edge of the passenger seat and pounced on Gennady's chest. Decision apparently made, the fox shoved its head under Gennady's chin and into the collar of his coat. "Well, now." Gennady grinned. "I see interspecies communication doesn't seem to be one of your weaknesses." He tucked the fox into his overcoat, securing the lapels with one hand as he carefully got out of the car. He walked toward the building and peered down at his stowaway. "Try to be still and quiet. I'm not sure if they allow . . . um . . . pets." The fox let out a shrill whine, its jet-black ears lying back, highly indignant, but it soon settled under Gennady's coat. Inside, the lobby felt warm and inviting. A fire crackled in a raised, stone hearth and the furnishings captured the era of the building's architecture: a comforting combination of elegant and homey. Gennady liked the reminder of home. The woman at the desk processed his credit card with efficiency and handed him a room key—a real key on a brass ring, not an electronic card. Pleased, Gennady offered the clerk a friendly, closed-mouth smile before climbing the curved staircase. Once on the second floor, Gennady unbuttoned his coat to give his the fox some breathing room as they traveled down the long, carpeted hall. "Are you all right in there?" The fox stuck its head out of the neck opening of the coat and took a look around. Seeming happy to be indoors, it began to chatter softly, looking at Gennady in between glancing around. Once Gennady entered the room and closed the door, the fox struggled and squirmed,

sharp claws digging in. "All right, all right!" Gennady loosened a few buttons and lifted the fox from his coat. He set the little fellow on the bed. The kit immediately set off to explore, and in no time started rolling about on the mattress with a measure of glee. As Gennady took off his coat and suit jacket, he watched the playful animal frolicking, sinking into the thick quilt and entirely disappearing on occasion. "I suppose we'll have to wait until moonset until we can have an actual conversation, hmm? This would have to happen on the one day a month when you can't shift at will." Gennady smiled, loosening the knot in his necktie. "In the meantime, I'm guessing you might be hungry. I have no idea how long you were trapped in the car." He sat on the edge of the bed and patted the space next to him. "Would you like something to eat before we get some rest?" The fox pounced on Gennady's hand with both front paws before dashing away, only to repeat the motion. Sitting back on its haunches, the fox took a lick around its muzzle and unmistakably nodded. Gennady grabbed the room service menu from the table next to the bed and picked up the phone. He dialed the kitchen extension printed on the menu. A man answered promptly and asked if Gennady would like to order. "Yes, I would, thank you. I'll have the baked chicken breast with mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, and a slice of Dutch apple pie." After thanking the order-taker, he hung up the phone and looked back at his charge. "Your dinner will arrive in about fifteen minutes." He kicked off his shoes and lay back on a stack of fluffy pillows, snatching the remote control from the table. The little fox marched along the length of the bed and plopped down into the crook of Gennady's neck. Gennady turned the television on and flipped randomly through the stations, unsure of what might keep the attention of a young, very energetic werefox. He finally settled on something benign, an Animal Planet show featuring silly antics by household pets. The fox seemed content enough, and before long a knock came at the door. After Gennady tipped the porter and wheeled in the cart, he set the large silver platter on the floor and lifted the matching dome lid. "Be careful," he warned the fox, which regarded him eagerly from the edge of the bed.

"It's still quite hot." Little paws impatiently treading in place, the fox yipped then jumped off the bed. It circled the food a few times before taking a cautious tug on one end of the chicken. He jumped back, soulful eyes looking at Gennady, pleading for help. "Patience, little one." Gennady squatted next to the fox and ruffled the fur between perky, pointed ears. "Good things come to those who wait." He took the chicken breast and broke a small chunk off. Forcing an inward breath, he blew cool air on the morsel of meat and offered it to his hungry companion. Sharp teeth applied a delicate touch to take the meat from Gennady's outstretched hand. The fox barely chewed before swallowing and looking for more. By the fourth piece, the fox had perched on Gennady's lap, happily gorging and making tiny chirping, trilling sounds. When half the chicken breast had disappeared, the fox paused to burp. "Well, excuse you!" Gennady laughed. "All done?" The fox nodded and licked its lips, bounded off Gennady's lap and hopped onto the bed to curl up on one of the pillows. After taking the platter from the floor, Gennady wheeled the cart next to the bed in case the fox became hungry later. He checked the window, adjusting the blinds and drapes. He pointed to the window and addressed the fox. "No touching the window, all right? This is important. Do you understand?" The fox cocked his head. "Hmm." Gennady took a seat on the edge of the bed. "Do you know what a vampire is?" The fox sat up, ears flattened against its head, eyes wide. "Don't worry. I promise not to hurt you." Gennady held his hands out, palms up. "We need to get some rest and sunshine can hurt me. The curtains must stay closed." Yawning, the fox circled four times and dropped to the pillow, tail curling around its body. Smiling at the sleepy fox, Gennady stripped to his boxers and undershirt, and crawled under the covers. *****

Despite the setting of the full moon early in the morning and the shift of his body from fox to human form, Fallon slept well. His changes had always been smooth and painless, bones and flesh seeming to melt gracefully from one form to the other in both directions. But without his thick, luxurious fur, the air chilled him. He wriggled about on the bed until he resembled a sausage wrapped up in the quilt. Comfortable and warm, he went back to sleep. He awoke again much later and inch-wormed his way to the edge of the bed. Hunger pangs rumbled his tummy. Stretching as much as physically possible without leaving the confines of his makeshift cocoon, he grabbed the remaining chicken and the apple pie, and ate both ravenously. When crumbs were the only remains, Fallon settled back into the folds of the blanket to snooze a while longer. ***** Gennady opened his eyes and blinked, stretching as he yawned. He'd fallen into a deep, meditative state surprisingly easy for this being a strange place, and he made a mental note to write the management a complimentary letter once he settled back in at home. He turned to look as his roommate. "My goodness." Gennady smiled at the black-haired little boy tangled in the covers. "Aren't you a sight?" Porcelain skin and hair the color of raven wings now framed the blue-gray eyes. The child's face retained some of the angular features of the fox, high cheekbones and a strong nose, and even in this form the boy twitched and jumped much as he had earlier. Turning onto his side to face him, Gennady brushed a few stray wisps of hair away from the child's eyes. "What's your name? My name is Gennady." The boy took a deep breath and exhaled in one big rush of air. "I'm Fallon Demeter and I'm four years old, and I'm not supposed to talk to strangers." Fallon wrinkled his nose. "Are you really a vampire? Do you drink blood?" "Fallon." Gennady smiled, allowing his fangs to show a little. "A very strong name for a very brave boy." He slipped out of bed and made quick work of putting his suit back on. "And yes, I'm a vampire." Worrying at his bottom lip with a fang, he thought about how best to answer Fallon's

remaining question. He decided to be honest but keep the explanation age appropriate. Heaven only knew Jace and Konnor had taught him that lesson well enough not so many years ago. "Yes, I need to drink blood in order to live, like you need to eat food. But I only take blood from people who are willing to give. I don't take any without asking permission." Gennady buttoned his shirt and slipped into his blazer. "Am I making any sense?" "Yup!" Fallon crawled out of the blanket but managed to stay mostly covered. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hands clasped in his lap as he swung his feet back and forth against the side of the mattress. "It's okay for you to drink my blood, but you have to ask. My mom, she says always ask first before taking." He sighed. "She tells me that a really lot." Fallon grew quiet and stared at the rug, still swinging his feet. A shadow fell over Gennady's mood. The driver must've been Fallon's mother. How unfortunate. He wasn't sure how to explain such a tragedy to a little boy. Perhaps someone back home more experienced with young children could help him determine the best approach. For the time being he decided to postpone the topic unless Fallon pressed. Gennady glanced at the clock. Now shortly past noon, the sun wouldn't set for close to six hours. "Fallon, we have some time left before I can go outside, so would you like to watch television with me? You can pick the shows." "Okay." Fallon rubbed his eyes. "More animal shows, please!" After Gennady found a two-hour special about migrating whales, Fallon curled up at the foot of the bed and by the third commercial break fell fast asleep. ***** While waiting for the sun to make its slow trek toward the horizon, Gennady watched Fallon fade in and out of sleep. The werefox child woke nearly every hour, yelping loudly, covered in sweat and whimpering about monsters. Once night arrived and Gennady told him the time had come to leave, Fallon shook his head. "I can't leave, Mr. 'Nady." Fallon turned out his bottom lip. "My clothes are in Mommy's car. I can't go outside naked!" Gennady pushed sweaty black bangs off Fallon's forehead. "I think we're going have to get you some new clothes after we get to my house. In the meantime, let's get you wrapped all

snug-as-a-bug-in-a-rug in a blanket, and I'll carry you to my car. Is that all right with you?" "I guess so." Fallon watched as Gennady pulled the woolen blanket out from underneath the quilt. "My tail doesn't go away, you know." "No, I didn't know." Gennady smiled and held the blanket open, and Fallon leaped into his arms. "I guess we have a lot to learn about each other."

Chapter Twenty-Four Sixteen years ago . . . Rain poured in buckets all day, and Fallon didn't handle being stuck inside so well. He hung on the maid's ankle most of the morning watching her work, following from room to room —a fun day until she started vacuuming. Fallon and the vacuum cleaner were not friends. The vacuum had the terrible habit of making Fallon's hair stand on end. The moment the large, cumbersome appliance came into view, he scampered off. Jace and Konnor were home. At first they welcomed Fallon into their room, but they were more than twice his age and Fallon's sticky fingers seemed especially active today. Jace snapped his teeth after removing his new Walkman from Fallon's pocket for the fourth time. Konnor suggested a board game, but Fallon kept chewing on the plastic game pieces, at one point almost swallowing a tiny green house. Once the sun went down, and after several hours of high-energy pestering, the demon twins finally had enough and went out to find some peace. Alone again, Fallon wandered the house. ***** The automatic steel blinds on the windows had creaked open hours ago, but Jericho had slept through the noise. He knew in advance he wouldn't be able to go out tonight, so there'd been no reason to drag his ass out of his comfy bed. Finally, the loud ringing of the phone jarred

him awake. He smacked at the bedside table until he found the noisy offender. He put the receiver to his face and sank back into his pile of pillows, absently scratching his belly. "What?" "Hello, sleepyhead." Gennady sounded cheerful on the other end of the line. "Are you still in bed?" Jericho shook his head hard to shoo away the cobwebs and sat bolt upright. "No, of course not, Father! I—" "Liar." Gennady chuckled. "Get your butt out of bed and go take care of Fallon like you promised. I'm assuming since you were still sleeping that he's being otherwise entertained?" Jericho scrubbed a hand down his face and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Well, I don't smell smoke, and I don't hear any screaming or sirens, so I assume everything is all right." He shuffled his feet into a pair of rubber flip-flops and adjusted the waist of his sleep pants. "Don't worry, Father. I won't let anything happen to the little critter. I'll have him call you later." "I'll be in a meeting for the next hour. Afterward, I'll be back in my room for the night. Call me later on. Love you all." "Love you, too." Jericho hung up the phone and headed downstairs to locate his littlest brother. ***** Meanwhile, Fallon had run out of things to do in the house, so he went outside. The security lights in the back yard flashed like slow strobes—on and off, on and off—as he ran within range of the sensors at exactly the right speed. Leaping from one rain puddle to the next, he became covered in head-to-toe mud, his long hair falling over his face in dark, messy stripes. He giggled while dashing about, his soggy, muddy tail dragging the ground. ***** Jericho shuffled into the kitchen, yawning, and the rubber soles of his flip-flops squeaked on the shiny stone tile. With as much haste as he could muster, he loaded the coffeemaker with freshly ground beans from the fridge, filled the reservoir with water, and turned the machine on

to brew. He stood at the counter, elbow on the granite, his chin propped in his hand. He inhaled deeply through his nose once the aroma wafted out of the machine. "God, that smells so good." Once the brewing cycle completed, he poured a steaming mug full and held it under his nose. He took a deep sniff then stuck the tip of his tongue into the cup to grab a tiny, teasing taste. He moaned again, the sound halfway between wistful and contented. Only at that point did he notice the back doors hanging wide open. Jericho frowned. He went to the other side of the room and looked outside, squinting to see through the foggy rain. Something—someone—frolicked in the yard. Oh crap. "Fallon?" The distant shadow came closer and formed the shape of a small boy with furry, pointed ears and a fox's tail. Only a few spots of fair skin peeked through a layer of dark mud. "Hi, Jericho! Wanna come play with me in the rain?" Fallon's eyes looked huge and luminous against the darkness of his muddy face. "I found a frog! Wanna see?" Before Jericho could answer, Fallon reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a fat, ugly bullfrog. Jericho set his coffee on the windowsill next to the doorway. "Get your butt in the house. Father will kill me if you catch a cold. And leave the frog outside." Fallon wrinkled his nose. He patted the frog a few times. "But he's my new friend." The rain started to fall harder. Fallon looked up at the sky, down at the frog, and he turned his bottom lip out and sniffled. Jericho rolled his eyes and tapped a foot with impatience. "All right, all right. Bring the frog, but get your ass in out of the rain." "Yay!" Fallon jumped up and down, hopping into the house. When he hit the warm, dry room, he shook all over. Mud sailed through the air and onto the floor, the kitchen table and chairs, and spattered most of the cabinets. "Did you see me, Jericho? I hopped higher than a frog! Why didn't you come outside? There's no sun out now. You could've jumped, too. But not as high as me, I bet!" "Only because I still have the common sense I was born with," Jericho groused as he shut the doors. He faced Fallon to survey the muddy damage. "Great. What were you thinking, going outside in the dark all alone?" Fallon's little ears flattened against his head. A large glob of mud fell from his hair and

plopped on the floor. "I wasn't alone. Jace was with me." Jericho put his hands on his hips and arched one eyebrow. "Are you telling me a fib?" Fallon lifted the frog with outstretched arms. "Jace." Jericho furrowed his brow as he scrutinized the unattractive amphibian. The frog opened its big, wide mouth and let out a slow, throaty croak. Jericho smirked. "I can see the resemblance." "I know!" Fallon grinned. "Where's 'Nady? How come he isn't home? I wanna show him my frog!" "Come on; let's get you upstairs and into the tub. You're a mess." Jericho took Fallon by the hand and started for the staircase. "Father is in Los Angeles on business, and he won't be home for a few more days. We can call him on the phone to say hello after you have a bath." Fallon jammed on the brakes and looked at Jericho, eyes wide. "A few days? How long is a few days?" The sound of impending tears clung to the words. "He won't be home tonight to tuck me in?" Jericho tugged Fallon along toward the grand sweep of stairs. "A few more days is . . . a few more days." His mind felt cluttered. Dealing with young children required more brainpower than one would suspect. "You eat breakfast every morning after you wake up, right?" "Sometimes twice!" Fallon rubbed his tummy. The frog croaked. "Right." Jericho led Fallon up the steps. "Well, you'll have breakfast two more times, and then 'Nady will come home. Understand?" Fallon frowned. "I want breakfast now." "I'm afraid that's not how it works." Jericho managed to get Fallon into the bathroom with no more protests. "Oh, okay." Fallon released Jericho's hand and stroked the frog. "Can Jace have a bath, too? Frogs like water." After opening the bathroom linen closet and rummaging around for a bit, Jericho extricated a plastic scrub bucket from a collection of cleaning equipment. "We'll rinse this out good for, um, Jace. I don't think it's a good idea for him to be in the tub with soap." Jericho snorted. "Which probably explains a lot." "Yeah, big Jace is stinky!" Fallon huffed and flapped both arms down at his sides, the

frog not sounding happy. "He yelled at me today for nothing." "Here." Jericho took the frog from Fallon's hand and tried not to cringe too overtly. "Let's get him in the bucket before he gets squished." He made a distasteful face anyway. "Oh, God. This is disgusting." He held the frog at arm's length, and with his free hand rinsed out the bucket in the tub, leaving an inch or so of clean water inside. Not a moment soon enough, he plunked the frog into the bucket. Shaking off a severe case of the heebie-jeebies, he plugged the drain and adjusted the water temperature to fill the tub for Fallon. He plucked a pink plastic bottle of Mr. Bubble from the rack hanging on the side of the tub and emptied half the contents under the faucet. "Why did Jace yell at you today? Get your clothes off and put them in the hamper." "I don't know! He kept stickin' his Walkingman thing in my pants and then wanting it back." Fallon peeled off his mud-caked shirt and pants. He opened the lid of the hamper, about to toss his clothes in when he suddenly paused. "Uh oh." He looked at Jericho with a sheepish expression. "I think he did it again." Fallon handed over his muddy pants. Jericho reached into the pocket and removed Jace's portable cassette player. He looked at the Walkman then at Fallon, lifting an overworked eyebrow. "Jace stuck this in your pants?" "I don't know why." Fallon shed his underwear and hopped into the warm bath. "Aaaaaah, this feels good. Jericho, can you wash my hair? 'Nady always washes my hair." Jericho set Jace's Walkman next to the sink and got on his knees beside the tub, forearms leaning on the edge. He smiled. "Of course, I'll wash your hair. Can you go underwater like you're swimming first and get all wet for me?" Fallon pinched his nose closed with his fingers. In a nasal voice he announced, "I can stay under a long time. Wanna see?" He ducked beneath the water . . . and surfaced right away, coughing and sputtering, a good deal of the mud sloughing off in the process. "Use the orange shampoo, Jericho. That one doesn't have tears." Laughing, Jericho grabbed the baby shampoo as directed. "I think you mean the shampoo won't make you have tears." He squeezed a large dollop into the palm of his hand and proceeded to lather Fallon's long shock of thick, black hair, smiling fondly at the boy as he worked. "You're starting to look like him, you know?"

"Like who?" Fallon leaned forward and blew a bubble mountain across the surface of the water. "Like Gennady." Jericho turned the water back on and pulled the plug on the drain. "Lean your head back, kiddo. Let's get the shampoo rinsed out and you into some clean jammies." Fallon tilted his head back. "I want to look just like him!" Water trickled down Fallon's forehead and he squinted. "You won't even be able to tell us apart, like Jace and Konnor. One day, I will!" "You already do." Jericho finished rinsing Fallon's hair, turned off the water, and pulled a clean towel off a nearby rack. "Your pretty black hair, fair skin, and cute nose. Yep. Sure looks like you belong to Gennady Zaitsev to me. Stand up." Fallon giggled. He stood and threw his arms around Jericho, hugging him as he was lifted out of the tub. "Don't forget my tail! It needs its very own towel." Jericho wrapped the towel he already had around Fallon's back and reached for another. "Your tail needs a whole towel of its own? Wow. That's a very special tail." Jericho cracked a smile. He fluffed Fallon's fur as dry as he could and tossed the used towel in the hamper. "Okay, now climb onto me piggyback and hang on tight. 'Nady ever show you how fast vampires can run?" "Nope." Fallon's crooked smile and twinkling eyes clearly stated otherwise. He climbed aboard. "Show me!" Jericho craned his neck so he could see Fallon's face. "I bet I can run so fast your hair will be dry by the time we get to your room. Want to bet?" "Yes! Go! Go! Go!" Fallon bounced on Jericho's back. "Can you go faster than 'Nady? He goes pretty fast—" Jericho took off like a flash. Curtains waved and magazines skittered off tables from unseen wind as he ran top speed through the house. One of the kitchen maids spun on her heels as they ran a circle around her, a tray of warm chocolate chip cookies held high over her head, her skirt flaring out from the breeze. Jericho tossed Fallon onto his toddler-sized bed in a giggling, tumbling heap. With outstretched arms, Fallon fell back. "That was fun! Can I wear my Batman pajamas?" "Sure." Jericho went to the tall chest-of-drawers to look for the pajamas and found them

already laid out, folded neatly on top. "Looks like somebody figured you'd be wanting to wear these tonight." He tossed the garments onto the bed, and then plucked the purple Princess-style phone from the nightstand next to the bed. "Get dressed, and we'll give somebody special a call." "'Nady!" Fallon squealed and jumped on the bed as he tugged on his pajama bottoms. He slipped the purple-and-black shirt over his head and wrestled into the sleeves, and then gathered his hair into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. "I need a 'lastic—Jace! We forgot frog Jace!" Grinning, Jericho dialed the phone with one hand and went fishing in a ceramic bowl on the nightstand with the other. As the phone rang on the other end of the line, he found a red ponytail elastic among the colorful marbles, random pieces of jewelry, pretty pebbles, and driedup Gummi Bears in the dish. He made sure the elastic wasn't gooey before snapping it playfully at Fallon's leg. When Gennady's greeting came over the line, he handed the phone to Fallon. "I'll go get the frog," Jericho whispered over his shoulder before leaving the room. ***** Ponytail forgotten, Fallon sat on the edge of his bed with the phone to his ear, wiggling his bare feet back and forth. "'Nady, I had a bath!" "I can tell!" Gennady's voice sounded tinny and way far away. "You sound all squeaky clean! How's my little man?" "I'm good." Fallon sighed. " But you need to come home, all right? Tonight." "I wish I could," Gennady said. "But I have some important meetings I have to attend tomorrow and Sunday, so I won't be home until late Sunday night. Are you having fun with Jericho and the twins?" Fallon whined. "I guess so. Stupid meetings. I hate meetings." He rolled onto his belly, his legs thumping the bed behind him. "Jace and Konnor aren't here right now. Jace told me they needed to do grown-up things. 'Nady, when can I do grown-up things? I'm tired of bein' the baby. Jericho says I look like you now, and you do grown-up things." Gennady chuckled. "Don't be in such a rush to grow up, my little kit. You'll be wishing you were a little boy again before too long. I've been in boring old meetings all day. Can you tell me what you did? I bet your day was a lot more fun than boring meetings." "I caught a frog! Jericho is giving him a bath now." As if on cue, a string of very bad

words muttered by Jericho came from the hall, and Fallon watched as Jace the frog hopped inside his room. "Oh, I don't think the frog likes Jericho too much." Fallon jumped off his bed, stretching the curly phone cord, and he pounced on the runaway frog. "Got you! Naughty, Jace! That was bad to do." Jericho returned to the room and sat on the floor against Fallon's bedroom wall, smiling and shaking his head. "You named the frog Jace?" Gennady snickered. "Yup! He makes noises like Jace, and he's fat and ugly, too." Fallon trotted to the bed, lifted his pillow, and stuffed the frog underneath. "Can I come with you to the meetings tomorrow? I'll be quiet." "I'm in California, Fallon, which is a long way from Salem. I had to fly on two different airplanes to get here." Gennady paused. "Tomorrow is Saturday. Konnor promised he'd take you for an all-day hike in the woods. The next day, Sariel is going to take you out on a sailboat. By the time you get back from sailing, I'll be home. You'll be so busy and having so much fun this weekend, you won't even notice I'm gone." "I will too notice." Fallon sniffled, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "I don't want to sleep all alone. I'm scared without you here." "Aw, Fallon. I'll be home soon, I promise." Gennady always kept his promises. "If you have someone to snuggle with, will that help?" Fallon sniffled again and hugged the phone to his cheek. "Maybe." "That's my boy. Put Jericho back on the phone, okay? I'll call you tomorrow between meetings. I love you whole bunches, Fallon." "I love you too, 'Nady." Fallon handed over the phone and wrapped both arms around Jericho at thigh height, resting his head against Jericho's hip. Jericho put the phone to his ear. He nodded as he listened, smirked a little, and smiled at Fallon. " Don't worry, Father, I'll take good care of him for you. Love you, too." He hung up the phone and ruffled his fingers through Fallon's long hair. "Looks like it's you and me, kid. How about we put Jace the Second back in the bucket? You can take him with you when you go hiking with Konnor tomorrow. Maybe you can find a nice home for him at the stream in the woods." "Do you think he'd like that better than living here with me?" Hearing the familiar voice

on the phone had been good, but it reminded Fallon how much he wanted his 'Nady home. "He'll be all alone out there. Something might eat him. He's safer under my pillow, isn't he?" Jericho scooped up an armful of little werefox clutching a fistful of frog. He carried them both to the bathroom, flipped the lid of the toilet down, and perched Fallon's fanny on top. "There'll be other frogs out there for him to play with. He might even find a girlfriend or a boyfriend and have little froggies one day. He wouldn't be able to do that here." He brushed Fallon's cheek dry with his thumb then went about filling the tub with a small amount of water. "We can keep him in here tonight. He'll have more room in the tub than the bucket, and we'll keep the door shut so he won't get lost in the house in case he climbs out." The frog made a loud ribbbbitttt and Jericho smiled. "I think he likes the idea." "Okay. I want him to be happiest." Once the frog landed in the tub, Fallon peeked in. "Good night, Jace. Be good, okay? I'll take you to a good place tomorrow." A yawn caught the tail end of Fallon's words and he turned, lifting both arms up toward Jericho. "Can I snuggle with you, Jericho? I don't want to sleep all alone." Jericho picked Fallon up and gave him a funny look with squinty eyes. "You're not going to do anything gross, like pick your nose or fart, right?" Fallon giggled and wrinkled his nose. "Nope, not unless you do first! Can we sleep in your bed? Yours is a lot bigger than mine." "Good idea." Jericho pulled the door closed behind them, securing their guest for the night. ***** Jericho's bedroom, stationed at the end of the hall, was by far the most stereotypically decorated. Gennady's room exuded tasteful elegance. Fallon's room looked like any kid's room. Jace and Konnor's room screamed Early Bachelor Pad, with beer mirrors and muscle-car posters on the wall and God only knew what in the bed. But Jericho's large bedroom looked like it had crawled straight out of a cheesy, vampire romance novel, and he loved it: black and dark-red, lots of velvet and rich brocades, heavy dark

furniture, and candles everywhere. An ornately carved coffin would've completed the ambience, but Gennady had drawn the line there. Jericho opened his bedroom door and set Fallon down on the thick, black carpet. "My new Rolex watch is on the nightstand next the bed. I want it still there in the morning. Other than that, make yourself at home." Fallon had never been allowed into Jericho's bedroom before. That didn't mean he hadn't tried to sneak in on occasion, but Jericho had exercised due diligence in keeping the door locked and his eyes peeled. Now that Fallon had the freedom to explore, the tyke took full advantage. Little fingers ran over every surface at least once. "Jericho, do you keep dead bodies in your closet? Jace says you do." "No," Jericho said with a short chuckle. "The only dead body in here is mine. What other interesting things has Jace told you?" "Um, he says you have a nice butt." Fallon opened a drawer in the bedside table and pulled out a large silver ball, connected to a string of more silver balls, each orb larger than the last. "Wow, you collect marbles!" "Oh shit," Jericho whispered under his breath as he darted across the room. "Fallon—let me have those, please." He snatched the weighted, graduated string of metal beads from Fallon's hands, opened the drawer, and hurriedly shoved them back in. "You want to watch some TV, or a movie or something?" "Aww, they were pretty." Fallon spun around a few times for no apparent reason before climbing onto the massive bed. "Yes! Movies! Jace says you have good movies, too!" Fallon slapped his hands over his mouth and mumbled. "I wasn't supposed to tell you." Jericho hit the floor on his knees with a loud thud and opened the locked storage console with a small key hidden under a candle. He pulled the first movie—Bareback Demon Surprise— from the far left side of the shelf, careful to shield the cover from Fallon's view. "I'll be a son of a . . . I know damn well these movies were alphabetized." Anal Angels is missing, he thought, fuming. What a shocker. He shoved the case back into the empty slot and turned to face the bed. "Fallon, I'll give you five dollars if you tell me what else Jace told you not to tell me." "Well . . . ." Fallon sat up and grabbed his toes, rocking back and forth. "I heard him bet Konnor that you and the lawyer lady you brought to dinner last week are doing it, but I don't

know what that means." "And I'm the bad influence." Jericho slapped his forehead and sighed. "All right, what do you want to watch?" Yawning wide, Fallon got under the covers and curled around one of the many pillows. His long, black hair framed his sweet face. "Something with lots of 'splosions." Thumbing through a row of more acceptable movies, Jericho came upon a surefire winner. "How about this?" He turned to show Fallon the cover. "Batman Returns; that's the one with the Penguin, and Michelle Pfeiffer as the Catwoman." "Yes!" Fallon squealed. "I like Catwoman." "Excellent choice." Jericho locked the storage console, slid the movie into the player, and flipped on the TV. He killed the room lights, climbed into the bed, and snuggled close to Fallon. Fallon watched intently, but halfway through the movie he started fighting to stay awake. "Will you stay here all night with me, Jericho? Wake me up if you go, okay?" Jericho closed his arms around Fallon and gave him a gentle hug. "I'm not going anywhere, kid. Close your eyes and go to sleep. I'll be right here."

Chapter Twenty-Five Konnor leaned back against the screen door in a huff. "You couldn't have waited another thirty seconds to use the bathroom inside?" He looked on, shaking his head, as Jace watered the flowerbed below by pissing over the front porch ledge. "Father would kill you dead if he saw you doing that." "Yeah, probably. But he isn't here." Jace tapped, tucked, and zipped. "Had to be the last round of beer. I swear the stuff goes right through me, and getting lost in the dark on the way home didn't help. What time is it, anyway?" Konnor pressed a button on his watch. "Seven minutes after two." He fished his keys from his windbreaker pocket and dropped them with a clatter to the porch, almost tipping over when he bent to retrieve them. "Shit." "Steady there, partner." Jace grinned and grabbed Konnor's ass, almost toppling over. "God, I'm so drunk. We should fuck. If I can still stand once we get up those damn stairs, I'm

totally throwing you down to have my way with you." "Damn sight better," Konnor said. "You've been teasing me all night." He managed to shove the key in the hole after several errant attempts. When he pushed the door open it crashed into the wall, rattling and echoing in the vestibule. "Why don't you just make an announcement?" Jace rolled his eyes. Konnor closed the outer door before opening the inner. He grinned. "Throw me down, huh?" Jace pulled Konnor into the foyer and closed the inside door. He stepped forward, hips bumping hard against Konnor's, backing him into the parlor to the right. They landed on the sofa together with Jace's fingers already shoved down Konnor's pants. "Maybe we don't need to bother going upstairs. Father's away, Fallon's got to be asleep by now, and Jericho is on babysitting duty. Let's be bad and fuck right here." Konnor toed off his boots at the same time Jace wrestled with his pants. "Did you see the look on that chick's face when you told her we mess around? I don't think she believed you at first." He unbuttoned the snap on Jace's jeans and fumbled for the zipper tab. "She was so hot for you. Couldn't keep her eyes off that sweet ass of yours." "She was hot for us both." Jace worked Konnor's jeans off. With both finally bare-assed, Jace shoved Konnor back into the cushions and knelt on the floor between his legs. He tongued Konnor's balls until they glistened, snorted and sat back. "Best part was when she thought we'd bring her back here and let her be in the middle. I'm not letting some chick come in thinking she's Queen Bitch, dictating who does what with who. Not happening." Konnor laughed, spread his legs wider, and put his hands on Jace's head. "Not to worry, big brother. I don't swing that way, not even part time. Now get that nice tongue back to work. I've been hard as a rock all night." Jace smiled. "Love you." He brushed his lips along Konnor's kneecaps then dropped his head and went back to work. A soft, growling purr filled the space between Konnor's thighs, and Jace's tail swished back and forth in perfect time to his sucking. "Mmm, love you, too. Ah, God, so good." Konnor's tail joined Jace's on the floor, coiling them together.

***** Fallon made a soft yipping sound in his sleep, and his tail whacked Jericho in the face. Jericho rolled over, groaning, propping up on his elbows to look toward the door. No light bled into his room from underneath. He shrugged and got comfortable again. Something crashed against a wall downstairs, followed by closing doors, soft voices, and quiet laughter. He looked at the bedside clock. When he saw the early hour, he considered for a moment how fucked up his internal clock would be for at least the next week. Fallon squirmed again, his tail twitching under Jericho's nose. "I'm right here," Jericho whispered. Fallon grinned in his sleep, scratched his nose once and snuggled back into the pillow. Jericho lay down beside him, and as he started drifting off again, more noises awakened him. Deep murmurs. Throaty laughter. The distinctive sounds of wet slurping and swishing demon tails. Jericho slipped out of bed with care and tiptoed out of the room. He closed the door behind him and padded down the wide, wooden staircase, hugging close to one banister. He paused halfway, wincing, when one step creaked underfoot. When all remained quiet save for the lewd sounds coming from the main level, he crept the rest of the way down the stairs. He stood in the center of the foyer to get his bearings with the sounds. The kitchen, the dining room, and servants' quarters behind him were quiet. Gennady's study across the hall, the living room, and great room were also still and silent. The parlor. Jericho, smirking, licked the point of one fang and crept across the tile. He sneaked up to the parlor's doublewide doorway and carefully peered inside. The sight he met made him recoil, eyes wide, jaw dropping. Jesus Fucking Christ! He withdrew into the foyer, took a position flat against the wall just out of view, watching and listening as he peered around the door jamb. I don't believe this. Jace and Konnor are— "I could be with a million other people but they wouldn't be you, Konnor." Jace, with his

fingers wrapped around the base of Konnor's hard cock, slapped the flat of his tongue against the swollen crown. Konnor twisted his fingers in Jace's dark brown hair. "Not what I, fuck, not what I meant. God, you're good." Konnor's breathing came in ragged, panting bursts, and his thigh muscles visibly twitched. "I meant I wouldn't be jealous or anything." A wet popping sound echoed off tall walls. "You wouldn't?" Jace wound his tail up Konnor's leg, and the tufted end flicked against Konnor's inner thigh. "Why not?" Konnor relaxed into the cushions, one hand moving to his cock. He stroked almost absently, thumbing at the slit. "I lied. I would be jealous." He ran a bare foot along one of Jace's thighs, his dark blue eyes staring into their mirror image. "I wouldn't let on, because that wouldn't be fair to you." Jace crawled up the length of his brother's body and settled over him. Their lips bumped together awkwardly before Jace persisted and claimed a kiss. "I never want to hurt you, Konnor. We were kept apart long enough, and I feel sick whenever we're separated now." Konnor moaned, his eyelashes fluttering. He fingered the dark curls behind Jace's ear with one hand, the other wedged between them alternately petting their erections. "I don't ever want to be apart from you either, but let's face facts. Not everyone in this so-called progressive town is going to be as excited about you fucking your brother as the chick tonight." Konnor kissed Jace, his tongue lingering momentarily between his brother's lips. "Incest is against their laws." "So is eating people, and we managed to get around that problem. Anyway, I don't care. Their world is a fucking disaster. War, poverty, illness, rape, greed: humans carry more sin on their backs than they care to admit. Sometimes I wonder who the truly evil ones are—us or them." Jace sucked in his breath, Konnor's fingertips teasing the slit of his cock. "We can pretend. We can keep us, oh fuck, keep us a secret." Jericho couldn't contain a smile. That little piece of information might prove useful one day. A light sheen of sweat broke out across Konnor's chest, his face, his brow. He bit his bottom lip as he canted his hips, adjusting his hand to curl his fingers around Jace's dick. "Secret. Our secret. Jace?" Jace arched his back, pushing his cock into Konnor's hand. He shook, his breathing hard

and uneven. "Yeah, little brother?" Konnor's lips quivered, an obvious shiver went through his body, an unbridled moan slipping out of his mouth. "Do you think—" He swallowed hard enough for Jericho to hear, blinked sweat from his eyes as he stared into Jace's, craned his neck and took his brother's mouth in a hard, wet, bruising kiss. He tightened his fist around Jace's cock, and his own flexed and leaked between them, pre-cum glistening in the scant light. "Do you think that's why we like this so much, why being together feels do damn good? Because what we're doing is taboo?" "No." A low, rumbling sound came from Jace. "I think this is natural for us. We were made to fit together. We were born this way, Konnor. Our wings were connected—that has to mean something." Jace slipped back to the floor and licked the head of Konnor's leaking cock. I'll be damned, Jericho thought. They've been fucking each other all along. No wonder Konnor never goes out alone. Jesus. Jericho kept his eyes on the twins, watched as they murmured and whispered to each other, watched as they groped and pawed and kissed and sucked. He dropped one hand to the waistband of his sleep pants, the tips of his fingers sneaking underneath. Running his tongue along the tip of a sharp fang, he pricked enough to catch the faint taste of metal. His eyes fanned closed as he closed cold fingers around his warm and stiffening cock. He forced his eyes open in time to see Jace's firm, round ass flex, hard young muscle under smooth, tan flesh. He watched, mesmerized by the hushed, guarded words they murmured, by the way they gazed into each other's eyes like ancient lovers, unashamed and unrepentant. At they way they touched each other with familiarity born, not bred. Primal and scorching hot. Jace took Konnor's erection into his mouth and deep-throated. Warmth pooled low in Jericho's belly, his last feeding called into active duty as his cock responded in his hand. Konnor met Jace's eyes and sat up, planting the soles of both feet firmly on the floor on either side of his brother's knees. He spread his legs wide returned his fingers to Jace's hair, twining, twisting. Konnor clenched his teeth, his entire body noticeably trembling. He thrust his hips upward and pulled Jace's head down. Konnor's voice came out in a hellish, bass-laden growl. "Suck me good, demon." Jace, the unchallenged alpha in daily life, seemed more than willing to let Konnor roughly use his mouth now. A matching growl from Jace caused Konnor to moan, and Jericho

could well imagine the vibrations the sound must have sent through the younger twin's cock. "Oh God, Jace, yes!" Konnor moaned, muscles in his forearms tensing with effort. He pushed Jace off him and fell back into the sofa, scooting his ass toward the edge of the seat, lifting his feet and placing them on the cushion, knees bent. Opening his legs wide, exposing his ass, his pretty little hole flexed open and closed. "Want you to fuck me, big brother. Want you to fuck me so hard I'll never, ever forget." "So needy. God, Konnor." Jace rose up tall on his knees and lined up. Jericho's knees buckled, his chin bumping the doorway woodwork. His fist flew over his hard, hot, aching dick. Sweet Jesus, I've never seen anything like this. He spread his feet wider apart to steady his balance, bracing further by pressing one side of his face against the wall. He could smell the latest coat of paint, could feel the tiny imperfections in the plaster underneath as he struggled to keep his eyes on Jace and Konnor, his vision lust-blinded white. Do him good, Jace, fuck your little brother . . . fuck, I'm so close. "Hard." Konnor's voice caught on a gasp. "Make it hurt. Want to think of you with every step I take all day tomorrow." Jace lifted Konnor's legs up by the knees and started a slow inward push. "Feels so good, Konnor. Feels so good to fuck you. Can't be rough with humans. They're so fucking weak. I . . . I still feel bad about Kyle." "Oh God, Jace." Konnor threw his head back against the sofa. "We didn't know. How could we have known?" As Jace continued, Konnor's face contorted, and Jericho could sense the demons' feelings through an erotic haze: pleasure, pain, hate, love, nothing, everything. Konnor growled, his hips bucking to greet each deep thrust as Jace fucked him with punishing fury. Eyes flashing over silver, Konnor's voice wavered, a menacing bass halfway between human and demon. "Take it out on me, Jace. I want you, need you." Sweet Jesus, they didn't— Jericho's dropped to his knees, the sound of bone hitting hardwood cracking off the walls. He moaned unrestrained, lowering his free hand to the floor, jerking off so hard he slipped off his cock and smacked his knuckles on the wall. Konnor's gaze suddenly shot toward the doorway, meeting Jericho's. "Oh, fuck no." As if things weren't peculiar and complicated enough already.

Jericho stared at Konnor. Konnor said nothing. He rubbed Jace's back, the soft, soothing movements diametrically opposed to the fierce, brutal motion of Jace's cock sawing in and out of him. With a quizzical, curious look, he kept his eyes locked on Jericho beyond Jace's heaving shoulders. "Yeah," Konnor cooed in Jace's ear, his hands tenderly petting Jace's back, his eyes remaining riveted on Jericho. "Come for me." Jericho's strangled cry echoed off the two-story foyer ceiling as the dry orgasm ripped through him so hard he saw stars. In the parlor, Jace bellowed as he came, the final seconds violent and fast. Breathing hard, he lifted his head and followed Konnor's line of sight to the doorway, to Jericho rubbing out the last few twinges of pleasure pulsing through his dick. "Oh, no fucking way!" Jace sounded incensed and pulled away from Konnor, falling to the floor. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Jericho tucked his cock back into his sleep pants and rose to his feet with slow movements. He remained in the doorway, staring into the parlor. "Jace, take it easy." Konnor scooted to the edge of the sofa, scooped his jeans off the floor and slid them on, standing to zip. "Take it easy? Are you kidding?" Jace sat sprawled on the floor, legs askance. "Konnor, he was watching. He knows about us now!" Konnor tilted his head and looked at Jericho. "You got off on watching us." Jericho scratched at the back of his neck, feeling sheepish as he looked from one twin to the other. He took a few steps into the room and shrugged, noncommittal. "Depends on your definition of 'getting off'—I'm incapable of ejaculation, but I did have an orgasm." A smirking smile crept onto Jace's face. "So, here's the deal. If you don't tell Father about Konnor and me, we won't tell him you're a fucking perverted voyeur. Deal?" Combing his hair behind his ears with the tips of his fingers, Jericho stepped over Jace's legs, met Konnor's eyes, and took a seat on one end of the sofa. "Who's Kyle?" Jace's expression hardened. "A boy Konnor and I met at the music store and hung around with for a while. Pretty boy. He liked us, and we liked him. Not too many others did. Sometimes there's safety in numbers. Sometimes"—Jace shot a glance toward Konnor—"there isn't." With a sigh, Jericho gestured at the empty expanse of upholstery next to him. "Want to

tell me what happened? This goes no further than this room, I swear." Jace climbed off the floor, dropped into the vacant spot, and patted his thigh as if to invite Konnor. "We got together a few times a week. Kyle attended Salem State. He lived in the dorm so sometimes we'd go there, but most of the time we hung out at a club called Gallows." Without a word, Konnor climbed sidesaddle onto Jace's lap, facing Jericho, and wrapped his arms lightly around Jace's neck. He rested his head on Jace's shoulder and stretched out his legs, sliding a foot across the sofa cushion to come a hair's breadth from one of Jericho's. Konnor gave his twin a tight squeeze and a quick kiss on the cheek. Jericho dropped his gaze from Jace's face to Konnor's feet then looked at Jace again. "You killed him." Jace wrapped his tail around Konnor's waist. "Not intentionally. Kyle found out what we are, but he wasn't scared. He wanted to see our true form." Jace stared off in the distance as if revisiting a memory. "The first few times went fine. We shifted. Kyle got off on seeing us, and we got off on him. A few times the sex got a bit rough. Kyle liked being bitten and clawed." Jericho flexed his feet and wiggled his toes, inching close enough to touch Konnor's, and he met Jace's gaze. "And you got carried away?" Konnor buried his face deeper into Jace's neck and made a weak, nondescript little noise. His tail slithered out from the back of his jeans, twitching on the sofa beside Jace in agitation. "I broke him." Jace kept his eyes fixed on Jericho's and let out a long sigh. "He stopped moving right in the middle of everything. I thought he'd passed out." "You shouldn't look at me like that." Jericho slid his foot farther forward, grazing over Konnor's feet to rest against Jace's denim-clad ass. "Doing so is dangerous. What did you do?" Jace made a disbelieving snort and tossed his head. "Is that a threat?" Konnor stiffened and looked at Jace. Jericho shook his head. "Not at all. Simply a warning—with this much emotion saturating the air, staring into my eyes isn't a good idea. I'm still young, in vampire terms, and I don't have complete control over my powers of enthrallment yet." He wiggled his toes against Jace's ass. His other foot came to rest on top of Konnor's crossed ankles. He glanced at Konnor briefly then returned his attention fully to Jace, his expression serious. "The fact I find the two of you alarmingly attractive isn't helping matters any." Jace groaned and covered his face with one hand. "So you understand how things can get

out of control." He took hold of Konnor's twitching tail, caressed the length in a soothing motion. "Anyway, Kyle died. His family lived in Florida, so we had plenty of time to . . . uh . . . get rid of the evidence." "Yes, I do understand how easily a situation can get away from you." Jericho shook his head. "You gorged yourselves on your friend?" Konnor sighed. "Yes," Jace said. "Jericho, no one can ever know. You can't tell Father; it would devastate him. And nothing will bring Kyle back, so what's the point?" Jericho pushed off from the corner of the sofa and got onto his knees. He scooted close to Jace and Konnor, put a hand around the backs of both their necks, and squeezed them painfully tight with his strong, cold fingers. "Look at me, both of you. Please." Konnor swallowed hard enough to be heard in the pin-drop silence following Jericho's command. He looked at Jace. "I don't know why, but I trust him." Jace whined, and his tail lashed wildly. He hung his head. "We are all Father's sons." Jericho looked from one twin to the other. "That makes the two of you my brothers every bit as much as if we shared living blood. What's said in this room tonight stays in this room. What happens in this room tonight stays in this room." He smiled, touching the tip of one perfectly pointed fang with the end of his tongue. "I know how difficult it is to have to maintain control. Here, with each other, we don' have to." "And what exactly is going to happen in this room tonight, Jericho?" Jace slipped his tail around Konnor's. Jericho moved a step closer on his knees, significantly invading Jace's personal space. "Don't tell me you're not even the least bit curious." He laughed, the sound warm and rich and dark. "The vampire bite is as pleasurable as legends say. One of the few things they've gotten right." "What will it do to us?" Jace's voice sounded thin and lost in the heavy air. Leaning closer, Jericho ran his nose along the curve of Jace's jaw. He teased an earlobe with the point of a fang and whispered. "You'll feel so good you'll understand why the humans call out to their gods while in the throes. Don't be afraid. Get undressed and lie together on the sofa." Jace helped Konnor back out of his clothing, and the two of them huddled together.

Standing before them, Jericho pulled his shirt over his head and dropped the garment to the floor. He skimmed off his sleep pants, and left them behind on the floor as he stalked toward the twins. He gazed at them with a smile, half-drunk with lust. "Look at you." Jace pressed his face into Konnor's hair, but never took his eyes from Jericho. "Father has never given us his bite." Moaning, Konnor also kept his eyes on Jericho. He pressed tightly against Jace, one hand dropping between his legs. Jericho lowered to his knees and rested his elbows on the edge of the sofa. "And he never will. He doesn't have sex with his children, and sex and the bite are closely linked. Father would suffer greatly were he ever to even contemplate crossing that line. I, on the other hand, do not have a similar dilemma. You're not my offspring, and as I've seen with my own eyes tonight, neither of you have a moral quandary regarding intimate brotherly love." Jace placed his hand over Konnor's, helping him to jerk off. "Do you think Konnor and I loving each other like this is wrong?" "Not my place to judge." Jericho slid a hand over top of Jace's, threaded their fingers together to touch Konnor's cock. He smiled. "So hard and hot, Konnor." He flicked his eyes to Jace and tilted his head playfully, grinning. "Are you ready for me, Jace?" "You enjoy danger." Jace raised an eyebrow. "Maybe we aren't so different." In a blinding blur, Jericho attacked Jace's left inner thigh, staring at him as he gulped down burning demon blood at a thirsty rate. He tightened his grip on top of Jace's fingers around Konnor's cock, swallowing hard as rapturous lust flowed through him and into Jace. "Oh fuck!" Jace threw his head back against the sofa, overtaken by mind-blowing pleasure. He ejaculated in the first ten heartbeats after the bite, trembling with his legs spread wide. Lifting his head, blood dripped from Jericho's fangs and dribbled down his chin. He ran his fingers through the spunk pooled on Jace's belly as Konnor grunted and unloaded all over their joined hands. Jericho laughed. "A rain check for you, Konnor. You owe Fallon a day frolicking in the woods come morning, and you can't be walking around in a daze. The effects of the bite take a little while to wear off." He grinned at Jace. "You, on the other hand, will be spending the day in bed."

Chapter Twenty-Six Fallon didn't need to see the sun to know morning had arrived. Even in Jericho's eternally dark bedroom, Fallon's inner clock worked perfectly. Besides, he had to check on his frog. Poking his head out from underneath the blankets wrapped around him, he saw Jericho snuggled next to him, apparently snoozing. Quiet as a mouse, Fallon wiggled out of bed. "Psst." Fallon froze. He turned to look over his shoulder, his tailed swishing back and forth. "Oh, you're awake! G'morning, Jericho. Did you sleep good?" "I slept well." Jericho smiled at Fallon and kicked the covers off. "Are you ready for your big day?" "Yes!" Fallon hopped up and down. "We get to take frog Jace to the woods! Hey, Jericho, you look pink all over. Did you get sunburned while you were sleeping?" Jericho sat up and slid his legs over the side of the bed. He nudged Fallon with his knee. "You remember when Father told you how he and I have to feed, right?" He smiled, ruffled Fallon's sleep-tousled hair, and reached for the hairbrush on the nightstand. "Well, I got up for a little while after you fell asleep and fed. Turn around; let me brush your hair so birds don't mistake it for a nest." "Oh. Did you bite me?" Fallon started twisting and turning, checking his body for fang marks. He looked down the neck of his pajama shirt. "Nope. No holes. Jericho, if the birds think my hair is a nest, I can eat them!" Tilting his head, Jericho squinted, tapping on his chin with the tip of the hairbrush as if he were in deep, deep thought. A smile spread across his face, and he pounced on Fallon and threw him to the bed, caging him with his knees and elbows. "Not if it's a big, ferocious Jericho Bird!" Alternately laughing and growling, Jericho yanked up the Batman shirt and made raspberries on Fallon's tummy. Happy squeals filled the room as Fallon rolled around under Jericho tickling. "No, no, no! No raspberries! I give up, I give up!" Laughing, Fallon rolled onto his belly and tried to wriggle away. "I need to go see the frog! He needs breakfast before he goes to the woods or he'll be

cranky!" Jericho released his captive and smacked him playfully on the rump. "Finish combing your hair and go brush your teeth. Get dressed and put, um, Jace, in the bucket. I'll go fix your breakfast, okay?" "Waffles! Konnor always makes me waffles on the weekend." Fallon leaned over and gave Jericho a kiss on his cheek, and ran off to the bathroom. Teeth and hair forgotten, he went straight to the tub and looked down. "Uh oh. Jace?" The bathtub was empty, the frog nowhere to be seen. Fallon got on all fours and started crawling around. "Jace? Come here, Jace!"

Chapter Twenty-Seven Konnor rolled onto his back, groaning as the mechanized steel blinds rolled down to block out the imminently rising sun. He blew out a sharp breath, turned onto his side, and shimmied up behind Jace. Jace reached one hand back behind him, drawing Konnor closer. "Is it morning already?" "Afraid so." Konnor put a hand on Jace's hip, petting. "You okay?" "I feel like shit. Don't ever let me drink that much again." Jace rolled over to face Konnor, revealing dark circles under his eyes. "What the hell got into Jericho last night?" Konnor snorted and rolled his eyes. "Fuck that—what the hell got into me? I encouraged him!" He sat up and leaned back on his palms. "I don't know, but it couldn't have been all bad. I've never seen you come so hard and so fast in your life. Was it that good?" Jace struggled to sit, eventually seeming content to get his shoulders resting against the headboard. His face looked far paler than usual. "Indescribable, but maybe because it was my first time. I don't know . . . but now I understand why Father never has a lack of volunteer donors. Wow." "You should probably stay here and rest today." Konnor gave Jace a kiss on the mouth, soft and lingering. "You take it easy. We should be back not long after sunset. I promised Fallon we'd watch the sun go down to close out the day. Love you." "Love you, too." Jace put a hand on Konnor's shoulder. "Be careful, all right? I don't like

the two of you going off alone without me there to watch over you." Somewhere down the hall, Fallon's little voice called, "Jace? Where are you? Bad, bad Jace!" Jace smirked. "Looks like you have your hands full today, little brother." ***** "Good morning." Konnor pushed the bathroom door open slightly and peered inside, his eyes greeted by Fallon's bottom half—sneakers, blue jeans, and the black, white-tipped tail— sticking out of the hamper. Konnor grabbed Fallon by the waistband, hauled him out, and set him upright on the floor. "Lose something?" Fallon looked close to tears. He sniffled, his eyes glassy. "I can't find him! Jace is gone! I had him, and Jericho put him in the tub so we could take him to the woods today, but now he's gone!" Fallon threw his skinny arms around Konnor's waist and hugged hard. "He ran away!" Konnor stroked Fallon's hair and looked around the room, and as he opened his mouth to speak, a croaking noise echoed off the tile. Konnor laughed. "I think we found him." He glanced at the scrub bucket sitting under the sink. "Um, Fallon? Bucket." "Is he?" Fallon ducked down and peered into the pail. "He is!" He patted the frog on the head. "We're going to the woods today, but first I need to eat. Jericho is making me breakfast." Konnor snorted. "Oh, really? This ought to be good."

Chapter Twenty-Eight "How does this become waffles?" Jericho stood in the kitchen doorway holding a box of batter mix in his hands. Fallon tottered into the kitchen, water sloshing over the side of the bucket as it bumped along his shins with each step. He plunked his burden down at Jericho's feet and huffed. "I don't know! Konnor makes them for me. I can have something else if you don't know how." Konnor rolled his eyes and snatched the box from Jericho's hands. "How about we have cereal this morning? I'll make you waffles tomorrow before you go sailing."

Jericho leaned back against the counter near the percolating coffeemaker and inhaled with a sigh, looking at Konnor. "How is—" "He's fine. We'll talk later." Konnor jerked his head in Fallon's direction. He put the batter mix back in the pantry cupboard and exchanged it for a box of sweetened cereal. Konnor looked at Fallon and shook the box. "This good?" Fallon continued staring at the frog and wagged his tail. "Yes, that's good. In my favorite bowl, please. Can my frog have some, too?" "I don't think so." Konnor reached into the cabinet to retrieve Fallon's bowl. "I'm not sure what frogs can eat, and I don't want to make him sick. Maybe we should wait until we get to the forest and let him pick what he wants." Konnor set the greenish-brown and tan earthenware bowl on the table, filled the dish with cereal, and went to fetch the milk and a spoon. "Wash your hands and sit. We can hit the road as soon as you're done eating." Jericho turned the water on. "Come here, Fallon. I'll give you a boost." Fallon rushed over. "Jericho, if we went to the forest at night, you could come with us." "Sure, I could." Jericho grabbed Fallon from behind by the hips, crooked a knee against the front of the sink and perched Fallon on his thigh. "As long as there are no wild animals, birds, bugs, mud, or rain, and I don't have to sit on the ground. Stick your hands under the water. Use soap." Fallon burst out laughing. "Jericho! It wouldn't be the woods without animals and mud and stuff! You're silly." He stuck his hands under the stream of water and scrubbed, and after drying his hands with a paper towel he scurried off to the waiting cereal. Jace shuffled in, looking like death warmed over. "I smell coffee. Please tell me there's coffee." Konnor looked up while pouring the milk and nearly overflowed Fallon's bowl. His eyes darted from Jace to Jericho and back to Jace again. He put the cap back on the milk. "Eat your cereal. We're burnin' daylight, buddy." Reaching to pull a mug from a hanger under a cupboard, Jericho laughed. "And now for today's weather: sunny, highs in the mid-sixties, breezy with an occasional gust of awkward.'" He poured the mug full and slid the coffee across the counter closer to Jace. "Good morning, Jace. Sleep well?"

Caught between stares, Jace took a sip and arched one eyebrow. "Yeah, I slept fine. You guys think I couldn't handle it?" After flashing a cocky smile, he shuffled over to Fallon and patted him on the head. "I hear you named your frog after me?" Fallon, with his mouth full of cereal, nodded with enthusiasm. "He sounds like you." "Oh, does he?" Jace smiled and took a sip of coffee. "Yup!" Fallon grinned. "Like when your room is locked." Jace sprayed coffee across the table. Konnor cleared his throat and pushed Fallon's bowl closer to him. "Two more bites, and then we have to go. We'll stop for an egg sandwich on the way." "I'm going back to bed." Jericho waved. "Have fun on your trip, guys." "Jericho, wait." Jace kissed Konnor on the cheek. "You be careful, Konnor. The woods are full of fun, but they can be dangerous, too." "We'll be careful." Konnor returned Jace's peck on the cheek. "Put your bowl in the sink, Fallon, and grab the bucket. Time to hit the road!"

Chapter Twenty-Nine The sound of the back door slamming echoed through the house. With Gennady out of town, Jericho had given the staff the weekend off, which had turned out to be a good move considering the events of the previous night. He waited for Jace on the bottom step of the wide staircase. "So." Jace came out of the kitchen. "Last night was pretty wild." Jericho cocked his head. "Suffering from a case of the morning-afters?" Jace ran his tongue over his lower lip. "No, but I guess I have a deeper understanding of things now. Gennady gave us everything he could while Konnor and I were growing up, but he never gave us his bite. We saw maids, house staff, and strangers from the outside receive what I considered a gift. I don't think Konnor cared, but it always bothered me." "Bothered you in what way?" Jericho turned sideways on the step, leaned back against the thick, carved banister, and stretched out his legs. "You thought Father was withholding something from you?"

Jace rubbed the top of his head. "Yeah, I suppose. Konnor and I saw how happy the people always looked when they left Father's room. He told us he didn't want to burden us with his feeding habits, but I never saw anyone else who acted like it was a burden." "You and Konnor are like his children, Jace." Jericho shook his head. "No, you are his children. All of us are. Everyone he's ever changed and everyone he's ever adopted. The bite and sex are too closely entwined. He won't go there with his offspring. You should've said something to him, or to me. He wasn't withholding anything from you; he was giving you an even greater gift. We do have the capacity to differentiate sex from love. Even me." Jace leaned on the banister. "I understand now, and I don't regret last night at all. Konnor would've been my only concern, and he seemed interested in the experience." "Your brother needs to loosen his grip on his emotions or they'll be his undoing. You can't keep everything bottled up like that all the time and not have things eventually reach critical mass. I can see the look in his eyes. He's a powder keg waiting for a spark." Jericho captured Jace's gaze and latched on tight. "You, however, wear your heart openly on your sleeve. You're quite different from each other in that respect." He looked toward the grandfather clock in the corner of the foyer. "Still early. No one home but us, so if you're interested—" "I don't have any plans, and Konnor will be gone most of the day with Fallon." Jace jerked his head toward the upstairs. "My room or yours?" Jericho headed up the steps at a leisurely pace, bare feet silent on the polished wood. "I've seen what your room looks like, Jace Barton. I find sex much more erotic when the surroundings don't require a HAZMAT suit." "All right, Mr. Perfect." Jace snorted. "You go on ahead. I'm going to get some water first so my body doesn't completely dry out and petrify." ***** During the day, Jericho's room seemed the darkest in the house. The mansion was like a fortress against the light with double doors, vestibule entrances, and the mechanized window shades. The gothic, dark red and black décor of Jericho's room made the space seem darker still. Jericho lit a few candles on his dresser. He got undressed and crawled onto the tall, fourposter bed and stretched out on his belly on top of the red brocade spread. Propping his chin in

one hand, he kept his eyes on the door, never considering Jace might not show. Before long, Jace appeared in the doorway and leaned a hip against the jamb. He traveled his gaze along Jericho's nude form. "If this is how you beg for forgiveness, I'm going to have to make you feel guilty more often." Jace stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "Father never finds out about this." "I'm not in the habit of kissing and telling." Jericho rolled onto one side facing the door, one knee seductively drawn up. He caressed his flat stomach with his fingers. "I'm wondering, though, if he's as oblivious as I was to the fact you've been fucking your twin." He chuckled. "Apparently, the six-year-old is more observant than we are in that arena. Ribbitt." Jace scoffed. "Fallon gets in and out of places better than anyone I know, and probably sees and hears way too much. Not my fault. And if Gennady does know, he hasn't said anything to me or Konnor." His bare feet made no sound on plush black carpet as he walked toward the bed. He touched Jericho's hand, natural warmth caressing cold fingers. "You're always hunting for your next meal on the outside. Maybe you should've spent more time at home." "But I like hunting." Jericho lay back, sinking his head into a thick pillow. He stretched out his full, slender length and slipped his hands behind his neck. "Besides, if I would've simply come out and asked, would you have agreed so easily?" Jericho smiled. "Sometimes being the hunted is its own form of reward, depending on who's chasing the prey and what they plan to do once they bag the catch. Get undressed for me." Jace tugged the drawstring of his pajama bottoms. The fabric slid down over one hip but became stuck, revealing only the slightest bit of tan skin. "I still can't believe Konnor didn't tell me when he first spotted you. My shy little brother completely got off on you watching." Shaking his head, Jace hooked his thumbs under the waistband and shucked his sleep pants off with a single motion, his cock already thickening. Jericho pursed his lips and made a lewd grunting sound. He ran his eyes over Jace's body and caught dark blue eyes in the glint of candlelight. "Brought me to my knees, watching you fuck him. I came so hard I couldn't see. There's lube in the top drawer of the nightstand. Grab some before you join me." "You like to be in control." Jace fetched the lube and tossed the bottle on the bed. "Tell me . . . when you were watching us, did you picture yourself as me or Konnor?" "Neither." Jericho parted his legs, letting his knees fall outward. With one hand he

caressed his chest, plucked at a nipple, sliding his other down his belly to his cock. He gripped soft, limp flesh and tugged. As expected, nothing happened. "I pictured myself between you. Facing you, feeding from your neck, stroking your thick, gorgeous cock. Konnor fucking me from behind." Jericho moaned, gripping his flaccid cock tighter. "You don't want to know how long I've replayed that scene in my head." "Even before you saw us together?" Jace climbed onto the foot of the bed and brushed his cheek against Jericho's ankle. Jericho nodded. "A long time before. Where do you want me to bite you this time? Unwise to use the same site in quick succession." "Surprise me." Jace crawled along the length of the bed, traveling his hand along Jericho's chest with a feather-light touch. "Someplace that won't show. Someplace Gennady won't see." Jericho rose up on his elbows. "Straddle my thighs. Do you have any ticklish spots?" Legs spread wide, showcasing everything he possessed, Jace climbed on top. "I don't think so. No one has ever tried to tickle me before." With the cool pad of his right index finger, Jericho touched Jace high on the neck behind the left earlobe. He traced a slow line downward, stopping at Jace's collarbone. "The jugular vein branches off here. If we continue in this direction—" Jericho drifted his finger downward, coming to rest at the crease of Jace's armpit. He drew an imaginary circle on Jace's skin. "We arrive at the axillary vein. A lovely bleeder easily concealed by a shirt." His lips parting, Jace's breathing quickened. "You'll know when to stop?" Yes, of course." Jericho ran his nose along Jace's chest to the arm, and he dropped his hands to Jace's thighs and gripped tight. "I'll never hurt you. God, you smell so fucking good." He dug his fingernails into Jace's legs, leaving sharp little crescent marks as he punctured tender flesh with his fangs. The bite drew a sharp gasp, Jace's back arching and his hands grappling as if searching for something, anything, to hold on to. He floundered against Jericho for only a moment before pleasure took control. "Oh. Oh fuck, I feel like I'm floating." Sucking hard, Jericho swallowed fast, keeping up with the flow. He slid his arms around Jace's back and lowered him carefully to the bed. Straddling strong thighs without breaking suction, Jericho's stiffening cock nudged Jace in the leg.

Jace's long, gray tail slapped against the bed, a sure sign of unrelenting pleasure. He reached a hand between them. Jericho smiled at the almost shy, experimental tug on his cock. Satiated with enough blood to perform, he stopped drinking, braced his palms on the mattress on either side of Jace's head and gazed into eyes as dark as midnight. "I want to fuck you, Jace. I want your hot, tight ass wrapped around my hard cock." Jace nodded, helpless to resist. "I can't stop. I want it—I want you." After snatching the bottle from the bed, Jericho popped the cap on the lube and drenched his fingers. He slicked his cock and slid his hand between Jace's thighs, exploring, prodding. "Get you good and wet so I can slide my cock right in. God, I'm so fucking hard." Jericho fingered Jace's hole, rubbing him slick. "I want to fuck you and feed from you until you beg me to stop." "Yes, God yes! Bite me again." Jace wrapped one leg around Jericho's hip, grinding his cock against warming skin. The bottle of lube hit the mattress and rolled off the bed. Jericho wedged between Jace's legs, bumping the head of his cock between Jace's legs until he found his mark and pushed. "Oh, Jace," Jericho moaned in a growling voice. He lowered onto his forearms, pressing chest against chest, Jace's cock trapped between their bellies. "No wonder you fuck each other; you feel fucking amazing." Snarling, Jericho clamped his fangs down on Jace away from the previous site, sharp canines slicing deep into the meaty center of Jace's soft armpit. He thrust his hips, a violent punch, and his cock breached Jace's ass fully while he feasted on hot demon blood. Jace could only cling as all pretenses fell away and Jericho claimed him. His body opened for Jericho and wrapped him in soft, moist heat. Chapter Thirty Jericho padded back into the bedroom and set a tall glass of cool water on the nightstand. He hiked his long, black satin robe up a bit and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over Jace's nude, messy form. He pushed damp locks of dark hair away from Jace's eyes. "Ow," Jace groaned. "Where the hell am I?"

"Paradise or Perdition, take your pick." Jericho smiled. "Depends on your point of view, I suppose. Don't try to move too fast, but when you think you can sit you need to re-hydrate. I brought you a glass of water." "Jericho." Jace struggled to sit, silver flashing momentarily in his eyes. "Jesus Christ, I thought you'd killed me." "No." Jericho laughed. "Close, but not quite. We need to get you cleaned up and back into your own room shortly. Konnor and Fallon will be home before too long." As if on cue, the ratcheting sound of the steel blinds unveiling all the windows of the house began. Jericho smiled. "This was an exercise in extreme poor judgment and a monumental mistake on both our parts, but I'm not the least bit sorry." "Why a mistake? I still don't understand why you and Father think it's such a big deal for Konnor and me to participate. We're family. We won't hurt one another." Jericho reached for the water and climbed onto the bed to sit cross-legged next to Jace. He held the glass with both hands, thumbs drawing idle circles in the forming condensation. "Father has his own moral reasons, of course, but underlying everything is the matter of potential addiction. It happens more often than not with humans—the undeniable craving to experience the bite again. With demons, I'm not sure." Jericho gave Jace a tender kiss on the forehead. "You're my first." "I guess that sets us on even ground, since I'd never been with a vampire before." Jace caught a lock of Jericho's hair between his fingers. "Maybe one more nibble?" A contented, rumbling purr filled the space between them, emanating from Jace, and a moment later he attempted to push Jericho to the bed and roll him over. Halfway through the maneuver, he obviously realized he didn't have the strength to pull off the feat. He collided with Jericho and fell back. Jericho held the glass high to keep the water from spilling. "Sit. You need to drink this before I dump it on your head. Take a few sips, and then off to the shower with you. You're a sticky mess." Jericho gave Jace's body a quick once-over. "A beautiful, sticky mess. What a shame Konnor didn't take Fallon camping for the whole weekend." Jace checked his inner thigh. The oldest bite had already healed to a pair of barely noticeable bumps. "I might not have survived. Seriously." Jace chuckled and pushed up on his elbows, wriggling backward until he rested against the headboard. He took the water and sipped,

catching a glimpse of his underarm as he shifted position. "Fuck. We did have a good time, didn't we?" "Yes, we did." Jericho gave Jace a playful slap on one thigh and rolled off the bed. "Sadly, the party's over. You need a shower. We can't have you parading around all day covered in blood and spunk, much as I'd enjoy that." Jace finished the water and placed the empty glass on the nightstand. "What are we going to tell Father?" "Nothing. He'd be furious." Jericho headed for the adjoining bathroom. "Keep the fang marks covered and maintain your cool. I'm certainly not volunteering anything. Now, get your ass in the shower. Konnor and Fallon will be home soon."

Chapter Thirty-One Two large, golden eyes stared back at Fallon as he knelt by the water's edge. Long shadows played over the pond, the surface rippling as dragonflies danced over the water and fish smacked the surface looking for a quick meal. The day had been long but pleasant, and Fallon had staved off releasing his new frog pal to the bitter end. The outing now officially coming to a close, Fallon displayed more than a little reluctance. "Konnor, the water is so cold. And a fish might eat him." Fallon looked over his shoulder. "Please, why can't I keep him? I could make a nice home for him in the carriage house. Please?" Konnor squatted next to him. "Don't you think he'll get lonely? Besides, frogs were meant to live outdoors, not inside houses. Might not be good for him to be inside so much. I think we'd better leave him here where nature intended him to be. I'm sure he'll be fine." The frog croaked and wriggled in Fallon's small hands. Fallon swished his tail back and forth on the grass, sniffling as he petted the frog's head. "I guess so." He looked up at Konnor, tears in his eyes. "I don't want to make him be a prisoner in a cage. I wouldn't like to be in a cage away from you and 'Nady. Do you think he has a family, Konnor?" Konnor rubbed Fallon's back in slow, soothing circles. "I don't know. I hope so. I've heard lots of frogs croaking out here today, so even if he doesn't have one already, I think he

won't have too much trouble finding a new family to love him." Konnor flipped Fallon's long, black hair back over one shoulder. "I can tell you for certain being kept in a cage is no fun. No fun at all. " Fallon kissed Konnor on the cheek. He turned back toward the pond and set the frog on the edge of the narrow bank. "Don't forget me, Jace," he said, drawing the back of one arm across his eyes. The frog blinked, and with a giant plop it jumped into the pond. Fallon hugged his knees and watched the frog swim away. "I'm going to miss that frog. He was special." "Come on; it's getting dark." Konnor rose to his feet, brushing a knuckle under his eyes as he stood. He held out a hand and waggled his fingers. "Let's go home." "Okay." Fallon slipped his hand into Konnor's. He gave another longing look at the pond. "Hey, Konnor?" Konnor swung Fallon's arm as they started on the path back to the car. "Hmm?" "Can I get a goldfish?" ***** Fallon fell asleep no sooner than his head hit the pillow. Konnor shut off the lamp on the nightstand next to Fallon's bed and crept quietly out of the room. He shut the door behind him, smiling as he made a mental note to go goldfish shopping in the morning. A small pet store on Essex Street sold fish and small mammals. He recalled the first time Gennady had taken him and Jace there. Konnor could still visualize Jace salivating in front of the stack of gerbil and hamster cages, as if it were a restaurant dessert cart. The memory made him chuckle. As he was about to open the bedroom door, fog billowed from the bathroom down the hall. Jace emerged with a towel wrapped around his head like a turban. "Fallon asleep already? How did the frog release program go?" "Not too bad." Konnor kicked off his shoes and hauled his shirt over his head upon entering their bedroom. "Poor thing fell asleep as soon as I tucked him in."

Jace kept to the far side of the bed and tugged an oversized T-shirt over his head with obvious haste. "He's a good kid. I half expected him to still have the frog when you got back." "I'm not completely off the hook. I'm going goldfish shopping tomorrow." Konnor slid his belt out of the loops and tossed it over the back of a chair, followed by his jeans. He reached into the front of his boxers for a long, satisfying scratch as he walked toward Jace. "Did you sleep all day or have some fun?" Jace winced. "A little of both." "Oh, yeah?" Konnor hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers and skimmed them off. "I need a shower. Come on; I'll show you some fun." He grinned and grabbed the hem of Jace's shirt. Jace pushed Konnor's hands away. "I just took a shower, and I'm exhausted." Konnor's jaw went slack and he blinked, stared at Jace for a long moment and blinked again. "What?" Jace crawled into bed—with the shirt on. Jace never slept in clothes. "What, what? I'm tired. I'll make it up to you in the morning, okay?" Warmth rushed to Konnor's cheeks. He raised his hands and took a step back. "Hey, no sweat." He opened his mouth to add something but reconsidered. "Goodnight, in case you're asleep when I get back." Without another word, Konnor donned his bathrobe and hurried from the room. He returned in less than five minutes, dripping wet, skin flushed red from too-hot water, his hair plastered in random stripes to his face. He leaned back against the door after he shut and locked it. "What the fuck is going on? You never turn down sex, and you especially never turn down shower sex." Jace rolled over. "Can we put the table lamp on? The overhead light is killing me." Rolling his eyes, Konnor huffed and pushed away from the door. He flicked the wall switch to douse the overhead fixture, flashing on his more sensitive silver irises in the pitch darkness. Seconds later, the lamp on the table next to Jace's side of the bed threw dim yellowish light and shadows. Konnor stared at his twin, his arms folded across his chest. "Talk to me." "I let Jericho bite me again. Twice." Jace rubbed his eyes. "I don't know . . . we let the situation get a little out of control. Felt amazing, but now I can barely move, and I don't even remember most of the day. I must've blacked out afterward or something."

Konnor sat on the edge of the bed. He searched his brother's face, finding Jace's appearance uncommonly lifeless and pale. "What do you mean, out of control?" Jace reached out to Konnor, his cold fingers brushing along Konnor's much warmer cheek. "It felt so good, exciting because Father never let us have the experience, but after a few minutes I felt like I'd lost command of my body. Soon after, I couldn't hold a clear thought in my head for more than a second." Jace dropped his hand to the bed. "All I can remember is an endless sense of pleasure and not caring about anything else." "You're cold." Konnor snagged Jace's hand. "Jesus, you're freezing." He slid his robe off his shoulders and crawled under the covers with Jace, pulling him close. "Scoot over here next to me. I'm still warm from the shower." Jace curled around Konnor, seeming to struggle to get close enough. "Thanks. Please don't say anything to Father." "Shush." Konnor wrapped his arms around Jace, rubbing his back, entwining their legs together in an effort to warm him all over. "I won't say anything. I promise." He buried his face in his brother's neck. "Did you and Jericho, um—" The embrace around Konnor tightened exponentially, and Jace pressed his face deeper into Konnor's neck and shoulder. "Yeah. I'm sorry, Konnor. I let him—" "Look at me." Konnor cupped Jace's chin in one hand, forcing eye contact. "Keep your apologies. I love you. Not just sometimes, not only when it's convenient, and sure as hell not halfway—all the time, all the way, no matter what. Clear?" Jace's tail sought Konnor's and wrapped them together. "I don't deserve you, little brother. I love you so much." "I know." Konnor twisted and stretched to turn off the lamp. He snuggled against Jace, petting his hip, breathing warmth against his neck. "Get some sleep. Father's coming home tomorrow night, and you can't be looking like this."

Chapter Thirty-Two As usual, Konnor awoke bright and early. Jace had slept soundly, but unlike most mornings he didn't stir at all as Konnor slipped from their bed to head for the bathroom. At least

Jace's body temperature felt normal again. After dressing, Konnor roused Fallon and got him ready for the sailing trip. With a peck to Konnor's cheek and a hug around the neck, Fallon trotted off with Sariel for the seafaring expedition, leaving Konnor with a final directive: "Don't forget my goldfish!" Konnor grabbed a light jacket from the foyer closet. He shut the door, shoved an arm into a windbreaker sleeve, and nearly bumped into Jericho as he turned around. "Jesus Christ, Jericho, don't creep up on me like that!" "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." "No problem." Konnor zipped his jacket. The pendulum on the grandfather clock ticked off a long, awkward pause. "Look, Konnor—" "You don't owe me any explanations. He's a big boy, and he can do whatever he wants." Konnor fixated for a moment on faint, familiar-looking remnants of fading love-bites and bruises peppering Jericho's neck and shoulders. His eyes flashed over silver for a second, but he reined in his temper. Mostly. "But if you ever hurt him, Jericho, I swear I'll drag your skinny ass outside at high noon and hold you down until there's nothing left but ashes." Jericho stared at Konnor with an immobile and hard expression. A smile spread slowly across his face and one eyebrow curved in a subtle arch. "No worries." Jericho licked the tip of one of his fangs. "But if you ever want to give me a go and see what you're missing, my bedroom door is always open."

Chapter Thirty-Three The traffic light turned red. Konnor eased the car to a stop at the crosswalk and shot a sideways glance at the water-filled plastic bag on the passenger seat. The back seat overflowed with aquarium accouterments: a rectangular, ten-gallon fish tank, a long-handled net, a shaker canister of goldfish food, colorful pebbles and castles and artificial ferns. He chuckled at the three tiny goldfish frantically swimming around in the bag. He pulled into the long driveway running alongside the mansion and parked in back near the kitchen porch entrance. He shut off the engine, staring up at his and Jace's bedroom windows,

rubbing the sore, bruised knuckles of his right hand where they'd impacted with Jericho's jaw.

Chapter Thirty-Four Jace knocked on Jericho's bedroom door, half hoping the vampire would be out, or sleeping, or busy doing whatever Jericho did behind closed doors during the day. After the awkwardness of the morning with Konnor, Jace had slept straight through breakfast and lunch. Only when a certain bodily need made itself known did he arise. After visiting the bathroom, he planned to return to his and Konnor's room but something compelled him to stop. An overwhelming need to see Jericho gripped him and wouldn't let go. He did an about-face and in a few moments stood, heart in his throat, outside Jericho's bedroom. The door opened seconds later, Jace not even having knocked. Jericho, barefoot and shirtless in a snug pair of faded jeans, appeared not at all surprised to see Jace had come to call. "Come in." Jericho stepped aside and swung the door open. Jace bowed his head and slipped into the room. "I hope I'm not disturbing you. I'm not even sure why I'm here." He looked up, and the first thing he saw was Jericho's bed. A flood of emotions ripped through him. He took a step back, bumping into what could've only been Jericho's naked chest. Jericho's hands went immediately to Jace's shoulders from behind, his touch firm, skin still warm from the recent feeding. The simple touch ran through Jace harder than a smiting blow from an avenging angel. He leaned back against Jericho and craned his neck enough see him. "What are we going to do? I can't stop, Jericho. I want it. I want it so fucking badly, but I know we can't keep doing this. How long does this feeling last?" Letting out a long sigh, Jericho slid his arms around Jace and hugged him tight, resting his chin on Jace's shoulder. "Your body needs rest. I drained you as far as I could without posing serious risk. As your body replenishes the blood supply, your craving for the bite will proportionately diminish." He dragged his lips along Jace's neck and kissed him behind the ear. "Your craving for me is another matter." "Oh . . . ." The room seemed to dip and spin. Jace turned, clinging to Jericho in

desperation. "Why doesn't this happen to humans? Everyone adores Father, but you don't see his feeders going all mooning and lovesick over him." Jericho caught Jace and supported his weight while leading him to the bed. He guided Jace down onto the edge of the mattress and knelt in front of him. "Father takes only a tiny amount at a time, but from many. Enough to give the donor a pleasantly euphoric buzz—about the equivalent of a glass or two of champagne—but not enough to invoke lust and awe." He met Jace's eyes. "I'm sorry, Jace. I shouldn't have let this happen." "Then this will never stop?" Horrified, Jace felt on the verge of despair. "Jericho, I couldn't stop myself from coming to your door!" "Oh, Jace." Jericho rose from his kneeling position to sit next to him. "You'll feel a lot better in a few days, I promise. But you'll never be able to look at me the same way you did before this happened." He trailed an index finger down Jace's arm in slow increments from shoulder to wrist. "The jury is still out on whether I'm sorry about that or not." He gave Jace a wan smile. "Konnor is furious with me. He decked me before he left the house earlier today. Flattened me with one punch." Jace arched an eyebrow high. "Konnor? Really?" The thought helped Jace find his smile, and he moved closer to Jericho. "I've secretly had a thing for you, but you've always been sort of a prick to Konnor and me. You weren't exactly friendly toward us when we first got here. I remember having things thrown at me a few times when I went into your room uninvited." "That would be because you went into my room uninvited." Jericho grinned. "Try it now, and I'll still throw things at you." He bumped shoulders with Jace. "I have to admit, I've had a thing for you, too. Well, once you and Konnor stopped snarling and breaking things and learned how to speak and use the toilet." Jace laughed. "I don't know. You got all hot and bothered watching Konnor and me snarling the other night. I think maybe you're into the rough stuff more than you realize." Jace snapped his tail like a whip and smacked Jericho on the ass with the tufted end. "I'm not mad at you. I'll do what I can to make Father understand, if he figures things out." A car pulled up outside, and Jace recognized the sound immediately. "Konnor's back. I can't let him see me in here unless you want to get punched again." Jericho took Jace by the hand, tugged him from the bed and led him toward the door. Tilting Jace's chin up, he kissed him on the mouth, slow and sensual. "We'll get through this."

Jace almost lost the will to leave, his mouth following Jericho's as the other pulled away. He heard keys in the front door and knew he couldn't stay. Flashing Jericho a smile, Jace slipped out of the room. ***** Konnor stood in the center of the huge foyer, hidden behind the pet shop booty in his arms. The bags of smaller items were stuffed inside the ten-gallon glass aquarium with the rolypoly bag containing water and fish balanced precariously on top of the pile. "A little help, somebody!" The grandfather clock went tick-tock several times. "Anybody?" Jace zoomed down the stairs and rescued the bag of fish just as it started to roll. He held up the clear plastic and tapped the side. Flashes of gold streaked wildly around in the water. "Mmm. You brought lunch." "Don't you even think about it." Konnor shifted his burden and headed up the stairs, calling back over his shoulder. "Where do you think we should put this? I don't think Fallon's room is a good idea. If he wakes up and finds one dead I'm afraid he'll freak out and be afraid to sleep in his room. Screening room, maybe?" "Nah, too much noise from the filter." Jace shrugged. "Main bathroom? If the aquarium leaks, at least the tile will be easy to clean." Konnor snorted. "I've been in the bathroom after you, Jace. I personally wouldn't want to live there." He grinned. "Billiard room is relatively quiet and low traffic." Jace rolled his eyes. ***** Two hours later, the tank happily bubbled with the new occupants swimming about, Fallon's nose affixed to the glass as he watched every move the fish made. He tore his attention away only long enough to throw his arms around Konnor. "You're the best, Konnor! You got me a whole tank of goldfish!" Konnor lifted Fallon so the little werefox could look down into the water. "Three to start. We'll see how they do, and then maybe we can add some more." He gave Fallon a hug and kissed

him on the forehead, taking a step back so Fallon's tail didn't dunk in the tank, the furry appendage not having stopped wagging for an instant. "What are you going to name them?" Fallon jumped from Konnor's arms and rushed back to the tank. One of the goldfish swam out from a sunken treasure ship and Fallon pointed. "This one is Sariel—he has a boat!" He pointed to a second fish. "And this one is Konnor because he keeps making kissy faces, so he's nice like you!" Fallon giggled and took Konnor's hand, swinging their arms in unison. "Hmm. I don't know what to name the last one." "How about Snack?" Jace grinned from the far side of the room as he racked up a new game on the pool table. Konnor shot a scolding scowl in Jace's direction. "One track mind, much?" He smiled and looked at the ceiling in thought. "How about—" "Anybody home?" Gennady's clear voice rang out from the foyer and echoed up the two flights of stairs. "Hellooooo!" Jace blanched. Konnor reached out and took his hand. "Act normal. We'll be okay." ***** "'Nady!" Fallon squealed loud enough for Gennady to hear from the foyer then came rushing down the stairs two at a time. He reached the bottom and launched at Gennady, his tail wagging. "You're home! 'Nady, Konnor got me goldfish!" Gennady hoisted Fallon high off the ground and spun him around like a top. "I missed you so much!" He peppered Fallon's face with quick, silly kisses before putting him down. "Tell me what all you did! You got goldfish?" "And a frog!" Fallon, overflowing with joy, wrapped both arms around Gennady's waist. "But I had to let him go. Konnor took me out to the woods for a hike and we let him go. Do you want to see the fish?" ""Of course, I want to see the fish!" Laughing, Gennady took Fallon by the hand and they headed upstairs. "Where is everyone else?" He looked at Fallon, concerned. "You didn't leave Jace alone with the fish, did you?" Fallon's eyes went wide. "Oh, no! I did! Hurry 'Nady! Hurry faster!" Fallon charged up

the remaining steps and ran straight to the billiard room. Standing in the doorway, hands on his hips, he made a low, menacing growl. "Jace! You better not have eaten my fish!" "Hey, little man!" Jace laughed. "I'm not touching your fish. I know when something will get me a beating. Besides, they'd make me sick. I can only eat—" "Hello, boys." Gennady smiled at Jace and Konnor as Fallon towed him to the tank. "Did you have a good weekend?" Jace and Konnor looked at each other. Neither spoke a word. A tug at his hand pulled Gennady's attention downward. "I went sailing with Sariel today, 'Nady." Fallon beamed. "We went way, way out in the ocean!" Jace cleared his throat. "Weekend went fine. Kind of quiet without the kid around. I slept. A lot." Gennady smiled at Fallon. He shifted his gaze between Jace and Konnor a few times, suspicious. Before dealing with the demon twins' mischief, he squatted down to Fallon's level to talk to him. "I had a long day, and I bet you're tired from your exciting weekend, too." He gave Fallon another hug, and with his index finger he lightly bopped Fallon on the tip of the nose. "Tell you what—you go to your room and get ready for bed—brush your teeth and get your jammies on and stuff—and then hop in 'Nady's bed. We can snuggle tonight, and I think maybe tomorrow a little werefox I know can skip school." Fallon smiled and went to the tank. "Good night, fishies! Don't let Jace eat you!" He ran into Konnor's arms and hugged him tight. "'Night, Konnor!" Jace stood off to one side, surprised when two little hands waved under his nose. He obliged, picked Fallon up, and kissed him on the forehead. "I promise your fish are safe, Fallon." "I know." Fallon sighed. "I was only a little worried." Gennady watched as Fallon scurried off. He held his arms out wide. "Do I get a proper greeting now that the munchkin is taken care of?" Jace stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Gennady, but he didn't look him in the eyes. "I'm glad you're home, Father. We all missed you." "Welcome home, Father." Konnor hugged them both from the side. Gennady kissed them on the cheek in turn and took a step back. He looked from one twin to the other several times, his eyes eventually coming to rest on Konnor. He smiled. "Konnor, can you make sure Fallon takes care of his bedtime routine and keep him company until I come

downstairs? I need to speak with your brother in private." An ominous silence fell over the room after Konnor's dutiful exit, broken only by the gurgling fish tank filter. Jace leaned a hip against the pool table. "I guess I'm in trouble." Gennady approached the table, picked up the eight ball, and turned the black-and-white orb over in his hand. "I don't know, Jace. Are you?" He set the billiard ball back on the table in front of Jace. "Who did this to you?" "Did what, Father?" Jace swallowed. "Jace." Gennady stepped around the table, moving closer. The swinging pendulum of the foyer grandfather clock two stories below could be heard in the penetrating silence. Gennady took Jace's chin in his hand and tilted Jace's head, seeking an evasive gaze. "You've been bitten, and more than once. Who did this to you?" "Jericho—but he asked first, and I gave him permission." Jace finally met Gennady's eyes. "I wanted to know what the bite feels like . . . is that so terrible? I've seen every employee in the house receive your gift, and even total strangers sometimes, but Konnor and I were never allowed. I needed to know, just once!" "Gift." Gennady made a small scoffing sound. He released his grip on Jace's chin. "It's no gift, and it's never just once, Jace. Never." He raked his hair back with his fingers, settling his eyes on Jace's again. "Am I safe to assume the intimacy didn't end there?" Jace voice sounded thick and choked. "No. Things got pretty intense, I think. I don't remember much. Everything started because Jericho caught Konnor and me—" Jace gasped and clamped a hand over his mouth, oh shit written plainly on his face. Gennady crossed the room and shut the heavy wooden door. He turned to Jace. "Do you honestly think I was unaware of the nature of your relationship with Konnor?" For a moment Jace didn't move, didn't appear to so much as breathe. "You knew? Being together seems so natural for us, but the more we listened to the humans, the more we realized our relationship wouldn't be easily accepted. I'm sorry we kept it secret from you." Jace shrugged. "Or tried to." "I've known for a long time," Gennady said. "I decided not to interfere and let nature take its course. You and your brother are not the only demons I've ever known." "You've been so good to us." Jace sighed. "Konnor and I never wanted to do anything to

upset or hurt you, Father." "You haven't, Jace. Good God." Gennady took him by the hand and led him to the small leather sofa on the far side of the room. "I'm so proud of you. You and Konnor have come so far since you came to live with me. There's no father in the world who could be any more proud of his children than I am of you." He tilted Jace's chin up and looked him in the eyes. "You and Konnor are not—nor were you ever—human. Therefore, I have no human expectations of you. Now, we do have to abide by human laws in regard to the sanctity of life since we choose to live among them, but that has nothing to do with what goes on between two consenting adults in the privacy of their own home. I am not upset, and you have nothing to be ashamed of in regard to Konnor." Jace's lower lip quivered. "You aren't going to make us stop? Gennady smiled and shook his head. Jace exhaled a rushing breath of relief. "Thank you. And please don't be too upset with Jericho, Father. What he and I did was consensual, too." "Not an comparative situation." Gennady adopted a sterner expression and tone. "You can never be certain that what you do with a vampire sexually is one hundred percent consensual on your part. My own feeders are warned of this in their contracts. You said it yourself—your memory of the event is faulty. I'll wager you're already consumed with longing for the experience again. Consorting with a vampire is dangerous, Jace, and highly addictive. This is why I've always had many feeders and few lovers." He patted Jace on the knee. "I'll deal with Jericho later. He knows better." Gennady smiled. "I want you and Konnor to be happy. If that means being together as you are, you have my full support. Perhaps the time has come for the two of you to have a place of your own." "You want us to move out?" Jace couldn't have looked more shocked. "I don't want to leave, Father. I love living here with our family. I can resist Jericho, if that's what you're afraid of! I'm not human. I'm sure the addiction won't be so hard for a demon to fight off, and I'm strong!" Gennady took Jace's hands in his and gave a reassuring squeeze. "This will always be your home. And no, I don't want you to move out." He chuckled. "If it were up to me, none of you would ever leave. But you and Konnor are adults now, and you need your own space and some assurance of privacy. Since neither of you seem to be interested in higher education, you

need something productive to do with your time." "We have to get jobs? Doing what? I'm not exactly qualified for office work." Jace appeared ready to panic. "I'll stay away from Jericho. We'll be good, I swear!" Gennady clapped his hands to his cheeks. "I'm seriously screwing up this Father Knows Best routine, aren't I? You're misunderstanding my intent, and I'm apparently not explaining myself well. I'm not kicking you out, and I'm not trying to punish you. But it's clear you and Konnor are bored, and you know the old adage about idle hands." "I guess in this case the saying can be taken literally." Jace blushed. "Maybe we should get jobs. You're probably right about us needing a place of our own, too. Can Konnor and I have some time to talk things over?" "Of course." Gennady wrapped his arms around Jace for a comforting hug. "Take all the time you need. I've been thinking perhaps you boys would like to start a business of your own. Something you would both enjoy. Talk this over with Konnor, and then we'll discuss your options together. There are several failing businesses in town I have under consideration for purchase over the next few months. Perhaps one of them might be of interest to you and your brother." "Fair enough." Jace kissed Gennady on the cheek. "I should probably go help with Fallon and then get some sleep. I'm still not feeling like myself." "Rest will do you good," Gennady said. "I'll speak with Jericho now so we can put this unpleasantness to rest. Tell Fallon I'll be there shortly."

Chapter Thirty-Five Twenty minutes later, Jericho appeared in Fallon's doorway looking even paler than usual. "I wanted to say goodnight to Fallon. May I come in?" Jace waved him in. "Jericho!" Fallon threw off his covers and bounded over with his arms outstretched. "Pick me up!" From the far side of the room, Jace flashed a tender smile to Jericho, but didn't move toward him despite the gnawing need.

Jericho hefted Fallon into his arms and hugged him near to squishing. He looked over Fallon's shoulder to smile at Jace. "Night, night," Jericho said to Fallon in a comical, singsong voice. "Sleep tight, don't let the chinches bite." "Jericho, you're so silly. You mean bedbugs!" Fallon gave Jericho another fierce hug. "Who are you calling silly, silly? Chinches are bedbugs!" Jericho spun Fallon around, nearly pummeling Gennady with Fallon's long legs. "Whoa!" Gennady laughed and took a few steps back toward the doorway. He held out his arms. "Let's go, little kit. We'll snuggle in the big bed tonight and watch movies, okay?" "Movies!" Fallon climbed from one pair of caring arms to another. "But first I need to tell you about Sariel and Sam and the boat! Sam is a girl, even thought she has a boy name. She's cool! But the boat made her throw up." Jace smiled and wrapped his tail around Konnor's. He could hear Fallon's rambunctious chatter fading down the hall as Gennady herded the tyke off to bed. He looked at Jericho. "Are you all right?" Jericho scratched the back of his neck, watching the doorway until the sound of Gennady's bedroom door clicking shut echoed down the hall. He sat at the foot of Fallon's tiny bed. "Let's just say I'm glad I'm already deceased." "Father chewed you a new one, huh?" Jace took a seat beside Jericho. "He thinks it's time for Konnor and me to move into our own place and get jobs. Even though he says this isn't meant as a punishment, I don't think he would've thought to bring the subject up at this particular moment had he come back to a perfectly stable home." "One has nothing to do with the other," Jericho said, "although maybe this was the push he needed to broach the topic with you. Don't try to read between the lines. If Father says no punishment is intended, none is intended. He would never lie to you." Jericho smiled, and he nudged Jace's knee with his. Konnor blew out an irritated-sounding breath through his nose. "You need to stop doing that, Jericho." Jace sighed, and with a light pat to Jericho's thigh he stood. "Konnor's right. You need to let me recover. Stop encouraging me to feel drawn to you before we make a another mistake." Without another word, Konnor left the room and closed the door behind him.

Jericho looked from the door to Jace, leaning back on his elbows on the little bed. "What's eating him?" Jace bit hard enough on his lower lip to taste a small rush of blood. "I think he's experiencing jealousy for the first time. I've . . . I've never been alone with anyone but Konnor before. You're the first." "Things were different with Kyle because the two of you did him together. Makes sense, I suppose." Jericho's eyes riveted on Jace's mouth and he took a quick sniff of the air. "I wish you wouldn't have done that." Jace cocked his head to one side, slow realization dawning, and he licked away the bead of blood from the tiny wound on his lip. "Sorry. I didn't do it on purpose." Damage done— Jericho had the scent, and Jace noticed the hungry look in the vampire's eyes. "Look, we can't. Not anymore." Unconvinced of his own words, he added, "I should be with Konnor tonight. He needs me." "Right." Jericho stood, shooting a purposeful glance toward the starry night outside. "I'll catch you later."

Chapter Thirty-Six Next morning, Jace awoke to loud chatter coming from the top of the third floor staircase. He dragged his ass out of bed, shuffled down the hallway and hollered up the steps. "Hey, Fallon! Aren't you going to school today?" Fallon yelled back, much louder than required. "Today is a holiday!" "Nice try!" Jace shouted. "Now get your butt down here and get ready for school, rugrat!" Gennady called up from the first floor foyer, no doubt from his study door. "Jace, I told Fallon he could miss school today. Would you and Konnor make some breakfast for him, please? I'll be down shortly." "See, I told you!" Fallon's giggles echoed down the stairs. Jace grinned, took off up the steps and rushed into the billiard room, stalking Fallon with a menacing look, his upraised hands gnarled to look like scary claws. "Come here, little fox, so I can eat you up!"

Fallon shrieked and bolted for the pool table, but Jace caught him by the tail and hefted him to his shoulder, growling. "'Nady! 'Nady!" Fallon screamed bloody murder between peals of laughter. "Jace is going to eat me!" Konnor dashed gallantly into the room, one hand pressed to his chest with fingers splayed, his other hand held up dramatically. "Here I come to save the day!" Konnor sang in a funny, nasally voice. He rushed toward Jace and plucked Fallon away and ran toward the door, laughing. "How about waffles?" "Yes, please!" Fallon stuck his tongue out at Jace over Konnor's shoulder. Following behind them, Jace paused on the second floor landing, tempted to knock on Jericho's bedroom door. He bunched his hands into tight fists at his sides, inhaled a deep breath and moved on. ***** At the long kitchen counter, Konnor stabbed two waffles out of the four-waffle iron with a fork and plunked them onto Fallon's plate. "Come and get it!" Jace watched as Fallon jumped out of his chair and dashed over to the food. The syrup tipped and some went down Fallon's front, the rest landing on the waffles. "So," Jace said. "What do you think about the whole moving out deal, Konnor?" Konnor's eyes flicked toward Fallon then back to Jace. "Maybe we should talk about this later." He grabbed a glass from the cabinet, a carton of milk from the fridge, and he poured Fallon a drink. "Here you go." "Coffeeeeee." Jericho walked into the kitchen stiff-legged, holding his arms rigidly outstretched, lurching forward like a zombie. "Neeeed coffeeeeeeee." "You can have my milk!" Fallon held up his glass. "Nope, you drink it." Jericho came up behind Fallon's chair and gave him a hug. "You need lots of milk to grow healthy bones and fangs." He kissed Fallon on the top of the head before turning to face the twins. "Good morning." "Good morning, Jericho." Konnor's tone sounded formal, curt. "Regular or decaf?" Jericho chuckled. "Somebody wake up on the wrong side of the demon this morning?"

Konnor didn't reply. He turned his back and went to work setting up the coffeemaker. Slumped in his chair, Jace gave Jericho an apologetic shrug. The night before had been much the same, the brothers eventually falling asleep in silence with two feet of mattress between them. "Konnor, if you want to yell at Jericho and me, just do it and get it over with. I can't stand the silent treatment." Konnor flipped the reservoir lid down on the coffeemaker a little too hard. Water sloshed out and Konnor turned around, rolling his eyes. He pointed toward Fallon's back and mouthed, "Later." He shook his head and turned back to his task. "So." Jericho clapped his hands together once. "How about them Red Sox?" Jace sighed. Fallon frowned. "Good morning, everyone!" Gennady entered the kitchen, greeting them with a bright and chipper tone. He stopped a few strides into the room and looked from one face to the other. "All right . . . I give up. Who died?" No response. "'Nady, Konnor made me waffles, and I have milk for my bones and teeth." Fallon held his hands up and shrugged. "And I think maybe Konnor and Jericho don't like each other anymore. That's not good." "It's a little disconcerting to discover the most mature person in this household at the moment is the first grader." Gennady smiled at Fallon. "How's my little kit this morning?" "I'm good! I'm glad I don't have to go to school today." Fallon took a bite of his waffles and looked across the table at Jericho. "Do you want your marbles anymore? I need them if you don't." Jericho raised an eyebrow. "Marbles?" Konnor and Jace looked at Jericho and both said, "Marbles?" Gennady frowned. "Marbles?" "You know . . . marbles." Fallon reached into his pocket and pulled out the interconnected string of graduated silver balls and raised them high in the air for Gennady to see. "I'm collecting them." Konnor had the misfortune of having just taken a sip of coffee, which he promptly

spewed out of his nose. Jericho opened and closed his mouth like a grounded fish gasping for air. "Holy Mary, Mother of God." Gennady appeared at Fallon's side instantaneously and snatched the string of 'marbles' from him. "Where did you get these?" "I don't know. I found them somewhere." Fallon, his expression five flavors of innocence, shrugged. "Aren't they shiny? I bet Jace has some, too!" Jace leaned back in his chair and snorted. "Yeah, but I don't leave them out were Fallon 'Velcro Fingers' Demeter can find them." Jericho collected his composure and strode toward Gennady, swiping the beads from him as he passed by. Gennady squatted next to Fallon's chair. "Did you find those in Jericho's room?" "Uh huh." Fallon chewed and swallowed a mouthful of waffles. "He let me sleep in his bed like you, 'Nady, because I was afraid since you weren't home." Doing an about-face in the kitchen doorway, Jericho scowled and pointed a finger. "He did not find them in my bed. I kid-proofed my room for three damn days before you left for California." He looked toward Jace with a devilish half-smile. "Found some interesting stuff I'd forgotten about." He cleared his throat. "Anyway. They were not in the bed. Right, Fallon?" "Nope!" Fallon stabbed the last piece of his breakfast. "I found them in the drawer with lots of other shiny things. You have lots of cool stuff, Jericho." Jace burst out laughing. Jericho looked thoroughly mortified, holding the string of beads up like a dead fish on a hook. Even Konnor managed a grin. Gennady stood, tousled Fallon's hair, and looked around the room at his family. He smiled. "I'm so happy to be home."

Chapter Thirty-Seven Jace glanced at the clock. The witching hour past, he pressed the heel of his hand into one aching eye socket and

rolled out of bed. No arms and legs to untangle tonight. With the need to take a piss the most pressing thought on his mind, he slipped out of the bedroom. He made his way to the bathroom. Once finished, he was too awake to go back to sleep. He stalked downstairs barefoot quiet on the wide-planked steps, badly in need of a smoke. ***** Jericho opened his eyes. The taste of demon lingered on his tongue, wicked blood still warm in his belly. He stared at the trickle of light leaking in from underneath his door. Jace had left the house; Jericho sensed the sudden absence of him in the building. Their connection remained strong. He tossed the covers aside to track the scent. ***** Jericho stepped outside and closed the creaky door. "Are you all right?" Standing at the edge of the front porch, Jace blew out a long trail of smoke before speaking. The cool night air would've demanded more clothing for a mortal, but a pair of thin cotton boxers served him well enough. "Couldn't sleep. Konnor's pissed. He wouldn't say two words to me." Jericho moved beside Jace and leaned against one of the enormous pillars supporting the porch roof. "He'll get over it." "A bit cold, even for you." Jace turned to face him. "Maybe you need to seduce Konnor the way you did me. Let him know what the bite feels like." "Would you feel less guilty if I did?" Jericho fiddled with the barely tied drawstring of his sleep pants. "I wasn't being sarcastic. Konnor will get over it. He loves you too much not to." Jace stared at the movement of Jericho's fingers and his cock stiffened. "I love him, too. I love all of you. I don't know; I'm so damn confused." Jace snubbed out his dying cigarette in an

ashtray sitting on the railing. "Want to go for a walk?" "Sure." Jericho pushed off the post and trotted barefoot down the steps to the sidewalk. "We should head around back." He held his hands out to the sides and smiled. Thin pajama pants were his only attire. "I'm not exactly dressed for a jaunt through the neighborhood." "Yeah," Jace said. "I don't want to be seen anyway." They took the unlit stone path to the back of the house, Jace slightly ahead and leading the way although darkness posed no problem for either of them. He led Jericho past the carriage house and into the woods along the trail he often took when in his demon form and in need of a run. "Maybe it would ease my guilt. But I'd share anything with Konnor. I think he'd enjoy you if he took the chance." "Maybe, but doubtful. I think he'll play only if you're also taking part. Otherwise, I think he'll feel like he's cheating on you." Jericho sidled closed to Jace as the path narrowed and became less defined. "I suspect he'll always feel that way." "Infidelity is a human concept." Jace slowed his steps. "I love Konnor with all my heart. Nothing will ever change that, but I don't see the harm in having a good time with others. You're family to us both. You aren't some stranger with foul motives." Jericho chuckled. "Better the devil you know than the one you don't?" "Yeah," Jace said with a smile. "Why not?" The leisurely stroll took them far enough into the woods that the house lights could no longer be seen, and the only sounds emanated from crickets and other nocturnal creatures. Jace stopped under a small but dense copse of trees. "I've been thinking about you all night." He found his back pressed against the bark-rough trunk of a tree and Jericho's tongue in his mouth. A sharp fang re-opened the small wound on his lip where he'd bitten down earlier. Jericho sucked hard until the tiny spot ran dry. "Can't get enough of you." Jace draped his arms around Jericho's shoulders and slipped one thigh between the vampire's legs. "You are a devil. I'm sure this isn't going to help me break away, but I don't care. I want it . . . and I want you." He lowered a hand to tug the drawstring on Jericho's sleep pants and slipped inside. "Mmm, God. You must still have some of my blood inside you—you're getting hard." "Get this thing off," Jericho growled, fangs bared as he tore at Jace's robe. "I want to see you naked before I take you again."

The robe fell without further prodding. Jace snapped his teeth, an inhuman sound coming from deep inside him. "How long have you wanted us, Jericho? How long have you wondered what it might be like to fuck a demon? I'm not the only one discovering something new, am I?" "I've been curious ever since you came to live here," Jericho said. "Until you, I've only ever been with humans and other vampires." He worked his sleep pants down with his feet while traveling his hands over Jace's bare chest. "You taste different than they do. Richer. More satisfying." He pressed Jace's hand harder against his cock. "The effects last considerably longer." Jace curled strong fingers around Jericho's hard dick and stroked. "You're so hot, Jericho. Fuck, you turn me on." He dropped to his knees and closed his mouth over Jericho's erection. Moaning after a few long sucks, he looked into Jericho's endless eyes and pulled away. "I could show you something if you're up for some danger." "Fuck." Jericho uttered a quiet moan, gripping Jace's hair. "I was afraid you were going to say that." "Afraid or hoping?" Jace ran his hands up Jericho's thighs. Trailing downward again his fingers began to elongate, fingernails growing into sharp talons. "How far are you willing to go?" Jericho dropped his head back, his eyes closing. "As far as you want." "Konnor can take it because we're the same. Are you sure you want to see?" Jace sat back on his heels. "You might consider me ugly, and your body is probably too fragile." "Eye of the beholder." Jericho met Jace's steel-eyed gaze. "As long as you don't decapitate me, set me on fire, or keep me out past sunrise, there's nothing from which I can't heal." He shrugged, on his face a guarded, skeptical smile. "Theoretically." Jace bowed his head and his arms fell forward, claw-tipped fingers scratching at the soil. Spiral horns emerged from his skull, thick and gray. A cracking sound echoed off the cathedral of trees. A louder crack began with a sickening crunch as vertebrae began to ripple and rise. He cried out in pain, his claws gouging the dirt as his leg bones buckled backward and re-formed. Tan skin became mottled gray hide. He locked eyes with Jericho while bones in his face broke and stretched his mouth into a long muzzle. "Jesus Christ almighty," Jericho whispered. Mesmerized, he reflexively began to make the sign of the cross, touching his forehead then his breastbone, before abruptly catching himself. "Such raw power. How do you keep this under control?"

Jace waited until his jaws finished re-aligning before attempting human speech. The expulsion of his wings—the left one malformed and mangled—stole away the moment as they burst through his thickened hide and spattered everything in a five-foot radius with blood. The effort left him panting, heavy breaths snorting through slit nostrils. He found his voice, the sound gruff, deep and resonant. "I haven't always. Sometimes I still don't." "Magnificent." Jericho's transfixed expression declared true wonder and utter awe. He'd seen the twins in their natural form before, of course, but never the process. "Your blood smells the same. I never noticed that before. Amazing. I don't know what to say." With the transformation complete, Jace stood upright on his hind legs, towering over Jericho. He pressed Jericho back against the tree, bent his long neck and lowered his head to look him in the eyes. "Now you see why Father doesn't allow us to change in the house. He's afraid we'll terrify Fallon and the staff." A long, canine-like tongue ran along Jericho's shoulder and down his bare chest. "I'll be honest—I probably would've pissed myself if I still could." A deep, rolling chuckle came from Jace as he pawed Jericho's cock with a huge, rough hand. "I should warn you—everything is bigger." Jace rubbed his warm muzzle on Jericho's throat and bit down with remarkable care. He moaned, excited. His cock leaked fluid hot enough to make a small ribbon of steam rise in the cool night air. "I want you. Now." A nervous-looking smile crossed Jericho's face. He dropped a hand between them and gasped. "Do I get a bullet to bite on?" Jace snorted at the reaction to his hard-as-nails heat and Jericho's inability to grip the full circumference with one hand. "No bullet, but I'll let you hang on to my horns." He laughed. "You can back out if you want, but don't keep stroking me. Control isn't so easy in this form." Jace's huge cock thickened and pulsated in Jericho's hand. "I can change back if you're concerned." "Oh, fuck no." Jericho pressed his thumb into the sizable slit of Jace's dick before releasing his grasp. "I'm up for a little rough play. How do you want me?" "Daredevil to the end." Jace grabbed Jericho by the shoulders and forced him to his knees. With legs spread wide, he gave him a lewd, closer look at the incredible length between his legs. Strings of translucent slickness dripped on Jericho's chest as Jace became more excited. Jericho's eyes went wide and he snickered. "Okay, so maybe not. Not in my ass, anyway."

"Just as happy to jerk off on your pretty face." Jace spread his legs wider, gripped a fist around his swollen cock and started stroking with vigor. "Join me. Feel free to take some blood from the nearest spot if your dick needs a boost." No further invitation was required, but in his present form Jace barely noticed the fangs sinking into his muscled thigh, no more than a human sensing a mosquito bite. Jace jerked off at a more leisurely pace until Jericho pulled away from drinking and looked up, chin bloodied. Jericho grabbed his cock with one hand, wrapped his other as far as he could around the enormous, bulbous head of Jace's. "Go ahead, drown me in your hot demon spunk. Get me dirty." With long, hard strokes and a tight grip, Jace jerked his cock with a vengeance, hell bent on sliming Jericho's face. His smooth, low-hanging balls tightened between his legs, and his asshole clenched and puckered. "Open your mouth, vampire." Jericho stuck out his tongue. Jace unloaded heavy spurts of thick cream all over Jericho's face, watching through a sex-crazed haze as Jericho's pale, beautiful cock thickened and twitched. Orgasm slammed into them simultaneously, lustful, curdling screams of demon and vampire shattering the quiet suburban night. Jace began the metamorphosis to his human form before he hit the ground. Nude and trembling in the dirt, they clung to each other. "So much for me staying away from you," Jace said with a sarcastic snort. Jericho dragged a fang along Jace's lower lip. "So much for me not encouraging you."

Chapter Thirty-Eight Two Years Ago . . . Jace finished tacking the purple and white WELCOME HOME, FALLON! banner across the wide foyer. He looked over his shoulder toward at Konnor. "Does this look straight to you?" Konnor peeked out of the dining room doorway. "You or the banner?" Jace rolled his eyes as Konnor retreated. He climbed off the ladder, and finding the

display to his satisfaction, he glanced at the grandfather clock. "They should be home soon. Fallon's plane probably landed about an hour ago. I can't wait to see him." After four years of limited visits, Fallon's homecoming had the entire household in an excited state. Ahead of his classmates, he'd gone off to study in Japan at age seventeen. He'd fallen in love with photos of the gardens of Hirosaki University and decided to pursue a degree there in biofunctional sciences. Fallon turned out to be gifted in taking designs created by nature and applying them to manmade functions. He graduated with honors and a bachelor's degree. Jericho bounded down the stairs, his fingers still plucking some sort of gel through his damp blond hair. Already dressed for clubbing, apparently he planned to go out despite the family party. He paused at the foot of the staircase, hands on his leather-clad hips. "Nice." Jericho indicated the sign with a nod and grinned. "Classy. Do we get pointy hats and noisemakers, too?" "How about I give you something pointy and you can be the noisemaker?" Jace flicked up the middle finger of one hand. "Can't you stay in for one night? You're hardly ever here, and Fallon hasn't seen you in ages." Jericho dragged his tongue across his lower lip. "Are you volunteering to be my supper, Jace? If not, I need to go out." "Fuck you." Jace snorted. "You never give up, do you?" "Never." Jericho smiled and licked a fang. "Want to come with?" "Jericho, I swear to—" The front door opened and Gennady stepped into the foyer, all smiles. He frowned, no doubt noting the tension. "You're back!" Jace discarded the glare meant for Jericho and put a smile in its place. "Let me guess—you were fighting over who would greet me first" Fallon peeked over Gennady's shoulder, grinning. Jericho stepped up first to dole out hugs. "Welcome home, Fallon. Father." Jace moved in behind Jericho and took Fallon in a warm embrace. "Good to have you back." Motion in the dining room caught Fallon's attention, and he nudged Jace to one side. "Konnor? Are you still doing all the work?" Konnor emerged from the dining room. "Nothing ever changes. You look great! I've

missed you." "I missed all of you so much." Fallon leaned against Gennady. "I think the experience abroad was good for me, but like Dorothy said: there's no place like home." ***** Fallon woke up as the credits to The Fast and The Furious: Tokyo Drift began to roll on the massive television screen. When he looked from his prone position and noticed Gennady watching him, he groaned. "I fell asleep again! You'd think the squealing tires in this one would've kept me awake." He wriggled into a sitting position. The party had stretched on for hours, but around two a.m. as things started winding down, Gennady suggested a movie like old times and Fallon agreed. Once Fallon grew old enough not to be scared, he and Gennady had passed countless nights together watching the loudest, most action-packed movies they could find. Private, silly time, and one of the things Gennady missed most while Fallon attended school. Gennady had missed Fallon more than he ever let on to anyone. It had been like a piece of him had suddenly disappeared that night four years ago, when Gennady had put Fallon on a plane bound for Japan. He stayed so long at the airport he had to hide in the men's room, removing a drop-ceiling tile to wait out the daylight hours in the dark safety of the rafters. He'd lost track of time staring out the observation window onto the empty tarmac after Fallon's plane took off. Now, watching the long, lean line of Fallon's body stretching on the sofa, Gennady realized the teenage boy he'd put on that plane had come home a man. He jerked back into the present, one shoulder supported by the wall, and he offered Fallon a small smile from the shadows. "You've just arrived after a long trip, and the party ran later than I expected. You must be exhausted." "Jet lag. Ugh." Fallon went to Gennady and put his arms around him. "I'm glad I had the opportunity to experience Japan. I made new friends, and I learned more than I ever could have here in this little town, but there was always something . . . someone missing. And the feeling never went away." Sighing, Fallon regarded Gennady with a concerned expression. "You seemed so quiet tonight. I know once Jace and Konnor have a few drinks no one else gets a word in

edgewise, but still. Are you okay?" Gennady smiled. "I'm fine." Fallen cupped the palm of one hand against Gennady's cheek. "You've never been a good liar. And we've never kept secrets from each other." "No, Fallon, you're wrong." Gennady's gaze didn't waver even though his courage did. "I have kept something from you." Hurt washed over Fallon's face. "What are you talking about?" "It was no accident that you wanted to go to Hirosaki so badly, a school clear on the other side of the planet." Gennady moved away, sliding a step sideways against the wall. "I didn't give you a choice." "But . . . I don't understand. What do you mean, you didn't give me a choice?" Fallon followed after Gennady, not allowing the distance between them to grow. "We poured over college brochures for months, remember? They were all over the kitchen and dining room tables, stuffed in the cushions of every easy chair and sofa in the house. I thought Konnor was going to have a cow over the mess." Gennady raked his fingers back nervously through his hair. "You were going to go to M.I.T. They have the same program as Hirosaki; it's merely called something else. But Cambridge, Massachusetts is only forty-five minutes from here, and you would've insisted on living at home. I couldn't allow that, Fallon. I had to get you as far away from here as possible." Gennady bit his lip and turned his face away. "Away from me." "You used your power of coercion to make me go?" The sound of shock and sorrow rang clear in Fallon's voice. "But why? When we talked on the phone, you always said how much you missed me. If you didn't want me to leave, why did you send me away? "I bespelled you and implanted the suggestion for your wanting to go. I had my reasons, and now I don't know any way to say this other than to be blunt." Gennady met Fallon's eyes. "I was beginning to have feelings for you, Fallon. Feelings decidedly un-parental." The silence felt unbearable, but finally the puzzled look disappeared from Fallon's beautiful face. "You were falling in love with me?" "I already had. That's why I needed to make sure you weren't within easy reach. You were so young, and I didn't trust myself." Gennady prayed Fallon would understand. "I still don't."

Fallon nodded. "You hoped by sending me away you'd get over it. That I'd come home after four years and those feelings would be gone." His eyes began to mist over. "I wish I'd known, Gennady. I wish I'd known." "It seemed wrong, as if I were violating some sort of sacred trust by looking at you without benefit of a parental filter. I'm not your father, but even so . . . I don't know, Fallon. I was so confused, and at the time I thought the best course of action would be to put as much mileage and time between us as possible." Gennady looked at Fallon with a sheepish smile. "That didn't work out so well for me. I'm no less confused now, and I'm no less in love with you." Fallon closed his eyes, and he let out a hard sigh before opening them again. "I've been with someone else." For a moment, everything in the world seemed to fall silent. No chirping of night crickets coming in through the open window. No living thrum, which all electric-powered houses had but only vampires and certain animals could hear. Gennady felt the world seem to tip slightly off axis, and only a concentrated effort allowed restoration of his equilibrium. He put a hand on Fallon's chest and the touch made him shiver. "If it made you happy and gave you pleasure, then I'm glad. That's all I've ever wanted for you. From the first time I picked you up and you struggled so hard to get away, all I've wanted is for you to live a joyful, carefree life." "But if I had known how you felt, I would have waited! I would have saved myself until I came home to you!" Fallon shoved Gennady's hand away. Gennady's heart seized at Fallon's uncharacteristic, angry outburst, but he understood. "You felt it, too." With another harsh sigh, Fallon slapped his arms down at his sides. "I don't know what I felt. I was too young to figure everything out before I left here, but I was no better off in Japan. I wish I could tell you my first time was wonderful, like some fairytale romance. It wasn't. I got drunk at a house party. I ended up in a corner with one of my friends, and things got out of hand. I'm not saying I hated the experience, but I had no emotion other than embarrassment the next day." Gennady smiled. "Not so unusual." Fallon whimpered and took a step closer. "When I needed you to be a parent—a protector and a role model—you filled those voids in my life to perfection. But I'm grown up now,

Gennady. I don't need the father figure anymore. Maybe I need something different from you now. We're not human; it's okay for our relationship to evolve and change." "Oh, Fallon." Gennady moved closer and brushed their cheeks together. His hands found their way into thick, black hair, and he wove the soft locks through his fingers. "I want you so badly, and I've been so afraid to tell you." Fallon kissed him, so soft and perfect, and Gennady felt joy again. "We still have a few hours before dawn." Fallon smiled as they parted. "As much as I would love to . . . to consummate this with you, I can't." Gennady cleared his throat. "I haven't fed recently." Fallon took a few moments to figure out Gennady's intention, and Gennady noticed the blush when realization dawned. "Oh. My." Fallon swallowed. "I'm not sure I'm ready to be fed from yet, but can you still find pleasure if, uh . . . you know, if . . . well, if I'm on top?" Gennady pressed a tender kiss to Fallon's mouth. "Try me."

Chapter Thirty-Nine Gennady pushed the bedroom door closed and clicked the lock for good measure. As if in the midst of a dream, the distance to the bed seemed surreal. He reached for Fallon, his hands falling to slim hips, thumbs hooking through the belt loops of soft jeans. "Here we are," he whispered against Fallon's throat, the pulse there strong and quick. Fallon gave a shy smile. "Here we are." Gennady took Fallon's hands in his and walked backward toward the bed. "I'll do anything for you, even if nothing is what you want. We can rest and talk, if you prefer. I'm perfectly content to take things slow." Once at the edge of the bed, Gennady fell back, and Fallon climbed up to straddle him. He ducked down and claimed another kiss. Gennady smiled. "I can't believe how fast you grew up." He toyed with Fallon's belt loops again, tugging. "In the blink of an eye." "Quite a difference from the little kit who used to chew on your shoelaces, huh?" Fallon

laughed. He climbed off and stretched out, mapping Gennady's face with light caresses. "When did you first notice?" "When did I first—?" Gennady chuckled. "Oh. You mean when I first began to look at you differently? Long enough before you left that I really don't wish to confess." "Naughty!" Fallon yipped with glee and pounced on Gennady, tail wagging happily. "Do Jace and Konnor know?" "No," Gennady said. "No one knows except Samantha. I had to talk to someone, and I figured she'd best be able to remain impartial, not to mention discreet." Chuckling, he added, "Not my best plan ever. She called me a dirty old man and a perverted creep." Fallon rolled his eyes. "I love Sam, but she's always treated me like I'm still five." He wrinkled his nose. "Come to think of it, everyone does to some extent. Maybe that'll change now." Fallon snuggled closer. "What does it feel like when you feed?" "Like good sex, in a way." Gennady touched Fallon's long, black hair, and wound a lock through his fingers. "Warms me all over. I love the scent, the taste, even the sounds. Depending on the circumstances, I find moderate amounts of spilled blood aesthetically pleasing, which I know sounds gruesome. But when done with a willing partner, feeding can be an incredibly intimate, sensual experience for both parties involved. Good God, you are so beautiful." Fallon tugged his tight jeans down over his hips, revealing blue silk boxers. He started to remove the boxers, too, but Gennady stopped him. Rushing forward with anything physical—sex or feeding—might be too much all at once. Something could go wrong, and the fragile garden of emotion just planted could fall fallow before roots took strong hold. Waiting seemed the prudent course. "Soon, Fallon," Gennady said, "but not tonight. We have all the time in the world." Fallon's eyelids appeared heavier by the second. "Jet lag. I wouldn't want to fall asleep in the middle of something anyway." Gennady nuzzled against Fallon's neck. "I'll always love you." A contented sigh from Fallon said he felt the same.

Part III — Now Chapter Forty

Present Day . . . Gennady sat behind the desk in the study with his back to the portrait of Fallon. A young woman knelt at his feet, her head resting on his knees, tears drying on her face as Gennady caressed her blond hair. One of Gennady's gardeners, and a frequent feeder of his for the past year, Wendy Sampson had a terrible crush on Fallon that she'd kept to herself until now. She broke down the moment she'd walked into the room and laid eyes on the painting. Gennady couldn't bring himself to feed given her distraught condition, so he comforted and consoled her as best he could until she finally stopped crying. "Go home, Wendy. I promise, you'll be called as soon as we have news." Wendy rose up on her knees and swiped a hand over her face. Her hair felt damp with tears and clung to her skin. "Are you sure I can't—" He pressed a freezing cold finger to her warm lips. "I'll be fine." She sniffled as she stood, keeping her eyes averted from the portrait as she left the room. Gennady sank back in his chair, exhausted and hungry. ***** Sam called and informed them that the Salem Police Department had dispatched a team to assist. The Vermont Department of Forests and Parks had been notified of Mayor Lancer's duplicity, and they in turn contacted the Chittendon County Sheriff's Department to strengthen the cordon of the surrounding roads. The Vermont State Police, along with a trooper to fly the craft, had provided a helicopter. Not a soul would be able to get in or out of Camel's Hump State Park without being spotted by someone in authority. In all fairness, Gennady had granted full disclosure to these small groups as to whom— what—they were looking for: two shapeshifters, a black fox and a wolf, and possibly a third. The shadow remaining in close proximity to Fallon in his portrait had changed form several times, from human to something vaguely feline. Salem's little secret was no longer Salem's alone.

Konnor jammed his cell phone into his pocket, rolled and secured the map with a rubber band. "I think we're ready to move." "This is when working wings would come in handy," Jace muttered, grabbing Dr. Henry Sherman's bag of medical supplies. The physician, a supernatural specialist, had joined them at Sam's request. The other human member of the Salem Special Council along with Sam, Dr. Sherman had detailed knowledge of what made the supernaturals tick. His presence would allow Fallon to receive on-site treatment, if necessary. Dekin crossed his arms, watching as a young, blond-haired woman left Gennady's office, her skin as pink as she emerged as when she'd entered. He ticked his index finger against the opposite elbow. "Even if you had two functional wings, Jace, you'd never be able to carry your bulk all those miles. I couldn't fly that long, and I'm nowhere near your—Jace, we don't have time for this. Go!" "I'm going! Wait." Jace spun around, nearly knocking Dr. Sherman over. "What are you doing, Dekin? Aren't you coming?" Dekin sighed. "I'm staying here to look after Gennady. Someone needs to make sure he feeds before he drops." ***** The shades came down; the sun came up. Gennady listened near the window as Jace, Konnor, and Dr. Sherman pulled away in Jace's car. He leaned his head against the steel shade, felt the rumble of the car's powerful engine reverberate through metal until the sound faded out of range. There were only rare occasions when Gennady Zaitsev disliked being a vampire, this being one of them. He felt helpless, useless. His eyes went to Fallon's portrait across the room. The small black fox in the picture lay curled in a ball, his nose under his tail, and a graystriped ball of fluff cuddled next to him. That Fallon had a traveling companion—and so far the other being seemed harmless, perhaps even helpful—did little to ease Gennady's worry. "He must feel relatively safe if he is able to sleep, even for short periods." Dekin entered and closed the door behind him. Gennady knew Dekin was aware of the power behind the magical painting. A portrait of

similar power hung in Dekin's residence, depicting a certain scarlet-haired angel. Dekin moved closer. "You should use this time to take care of yourself, my friend." "I will." Gennady shoved off from the window. "I'll feed as soon as the shift change completes. Once word travels through the household, I'll have them queued at my door like a nest of mother hens. Looking like I'm still a teenager has that effect on the humans on my staff— they all feel compelled to protect me, particularly the females." Gennady chuckled and patted Dekin on the shoulder. "You should go home. You've done all you can, and I'm sure Kelly is anxious to have you back. Thank you, Dekin, for all your help." Dekin glanced at his gold wristwatch and clucked his tongue. "Shift change doesn't occur for two more hours according to my recollection of your household schedule. While I am aware demon blood is not at the top of your culinary list, please know it is available." He smiled. "Perhaps lesser demon is to ordinary steak as incubus is to filet mignon." Tightening his kimono around him, Gennady leaned one shoulder against the wall next to the hearth. "You've always been a good friend, Dekin. Kelly is fortunate to have met you." One blond eyebrow lifted. "Do not change the subject on me, Gennady Ivanovich Zaitsev. The ploy won't work; I have an attention span longer than your boys' bundled together." "I'm not changing the subject, but merely thanking you in advance." Gennady sighed. "You're right. I need to gather my strength, and two hours is a long time. Plus, I doubt the others are going to be in any better shape than little Miss Wendy when they hear about—when they hear the news. So, I appreciate your offer. Thank you." "No need to thank me. I know you and your family would offer the same support were I in need." Dekin gathered his abundant cascade of blond hair away from one side of his neck. "I'm not sure how you usually do this." "We can get more comfortable, for starters." Gennady took Dekin by the hand and led him toward the cozy sofa facing the television. "I feel it only fair to warn you that the bite can be extremely pleasurable." Dekin offered a gentle smile as they settled on the comfortable cushions. "Something we have in common, then. No worries, Gennady—I have vast experience with pleasure feedings." He swiftly wove his hair into a long braid then moved closer with his neck bared. "I think we are all lucky to have met. My years before Salem were dark. I am nothing like the Dekin I was then."

Drawing his legs beneath him, Gennady moved closer still, brushing a few wayward strands of silky blond from Dekin's throat. He ran his nose along the long line of Dekin's carotid artery and inhaled the fragrance. "I think we all have dark pasts in comparison to the way we live now." Gennady dragged his fangs in a light scrape along Dekin's throat. "Some darker than others." With a soft moan he bit down, sinking his fangs through delicate white skin into tender flesh. Dekin inhaled a sharp breath—the pinch turned to burn before melting into something far sweeter. Taut muscles eased and Dekin sank into Gennady's caring arms. Sucking hard but not too greedy, Gennady drank. A crimson blush settled on Dekin's cheeks, and he made a soft trilling sound. "No wonder you have a waiting list." Gennady shifted onto Dekin's lap, straddling him. He gripped Dekin's shoulders firmly, moaning soft little whimpers against pale skin in reply. His kimono parted, and he shuddered when the cool, conditioned air met his rapidly warming chest. He pulled away, dark red blood dripping from his fangs, and he grazed his warming fingers over Dekin's high cheekbones. "We should stop now," Gennady said, even as his hips involuntarily rocked. Dekin put stilling hands on Gennady's waistline. "We should stop now. Pardon my unavoidable erection." Gennady slid off Dekin's lap, pulled his kimono closed and crossed his arms over his chest, embarrassed. "We need not speak of this again. Thank you, my dear friend." Dekin's skin glowed with the rush of sexual energy, his eyes now an intense, predatory gold. "We will speak of the occasion only between us. I am unlikely to forget the experience, nor do I wish to, but I realize this is extremely personal and should remain so." "We are going to find him." Gennady looked toward the painting, feeling much better. Fallon and his companion, both now in human form, appeared only as silhouettes. Dekin took one last look at the painting and smiled. "Yes, I believe so with all my heart."

Chapter Forty-One The pair kept moving throughout the night and early morning. Fallon's poor, tired feet

were dragging and caked in mud. In fact, he had mud and tree sap in places he'd rather not think about. Morning dawned with bright sunshine. The rain showers from the night before had washed away the terrible, clinging heat and the forest held a crisp and earthy scent. The ground had gone from dangerously slick to firm—unfortunately perfect for leaving tracks. Fallon did his best to step on leaves and grass when he could, but as he looked back over his furry shoulder he could see the path he'd left behind. Over an hour had passed since they'd last seen or heard their tracker. They remained in their animal forms for ease of travel, since conversation would pose a dangerous risk anyway. Several times they broke through the trees to find a fire trail or an old service road. Each time those areas proved vacant of recent human activity and offered little cover from the hunter, so Casey guided them back into the heavier brush. They left one of the tree-barren trails and Fallon heard the distinctive noise of helicopter blades coming from behind them. Hope rising, he turned around and dashed back toward the open space. Casey sprinted alongside him as the helicopter passed overhead, the craft flying in the same northerly direction they'd been moving all along. Once the chopper flew out of sight, Casey nudged Fallon's shoulder, made a quiet mew and loped off toward the trees. He shifted into his human body, squatting low under a grouping of tall, dense spruces. Fallon stared with longing in his heart at the shrinking helicopter. He'd forgotten he would look like an ordinary fox to a pilot, if someone flying could even see something so small on a mountain so big. He huffed and went toward Casey, shifting to human form before kneeling next to him. "This isn't working," Fallon said. "Maybe I should make a bonfire, or write a big message with tree limbs and rocks in one of those bald spots like they do in castaway movies." Casey plucked a wide blade of grass and chewed the end. "Those are good ideas, but not here. We'll build a fire once we hit the north side highway. Start a fire in here and this forest will go up like a tinderbox." Casey shrugged. "Whatever a tinderbox is—I remember somebody telling me once, but I forget. Anyway, they'll never find you if the woods are filled with smoke. Take one step at a time, Fallon. Right now, that hunter has a better chance of finding us than the search party." Casey smiled and wiggled his eyebrows. "Search party. They're out looking for

you. Must make you feel a little better, huh?" "I'm so tired of walking." Fallon stood on one foot and lifted the other to look at the raw, cut sole. He wished he hadn't looked, because now he swore his feet started hurting twice as much. "Do you think the helicopter is looking for me?" As if in answer, the noise of the chopper's rotors returned. Sound became a visual as the helicopter crossed the mountain again, several miles further along the crest, its shadow sweeping over the distant treetops. Fallon smiled, but looking northward he saw the enormous expanse of green still before them. "I'm never going to make it," he groaned. Casey tapped Fallon on the nose with a stiff blade of grass. "I think we'd better rest. I'm willing to bet you're the one they're looking for. There are never any choppers flying around here unless they're out looking for somebody, and what're the odds you're not the only one lost out here now? I bet you'll be back with your family by nightfall. We've only got a few more miles until we hit the big road." He stood, stretching and yawning. "There's a little brook about a half mile further, with a nice barrier and some burrows I dug a few weeks back. We can have some water and take a short nap. Recharge our batteries." Fallon smiled. "Thank you, Casey, for everything. I'd be hanging on that hunter's trophy wall already if not for you." "Well, we're not out of the woods yet." A wide grin spread across Casey's friendly face. "Bad pun. Let's get moving."

Chapter Forty-Two Jace took a radio from the pile resting on the trunk of Sam's police car and handed the device to Konnor. "Here. I'll be on all fours." He looked toward Sam, who was discussing strategy with Rhett London and mapping out a route for each team. Rhett was another member of Salem's Special Council. An older werewolf and somewhat infirm, he'd insisted on helping the search party. The limp and missing fingers of his right hand didn't negate the fact he had a nose better than any bloodhound. He also possessed the supernatural sense to know the difference between Fallon's scent and that of any native fox

inhabiting the woods. Rhett and Sam would take the eastern ridge once Jace and Konnor started on their search. "Sam, we're ready." Jace shed his jacket and shirt then reached for his belt buckle. "You have the north and west sides covered, right?" Sam squawked a radio to test the battery. "I have two of Salem's finest and a pair of local rangers going in from the west. Vermont State Police have a twenty-four mile stretch of I-89 blocked to all traffic to the north, with three checkpoints set up just in case. A total of six cars are patrolling back and forth. Rhett and I are going in from the east, you guys have the south, and the VSP already has a bird in the air." Sam stowed the excess equipment in the trunk of her unmarked car. "Jace, can I talk to you for a minute before we head out? In private, please." She climbed into the driver's seat and shut the door. Jace looked at his jeans, now halfway down his thighs. Muttering profanities under his breath, he tugged his pants up as he walked toward the passenger side. He opened the door and hopped in. "What's on your mind, Detective?" She started with a sigh, looking straight ahead out of the windshield. "Officially, the orders are standard: no excessive or lethal force unless a life is immediately threatened." Sam shrugged, her eyes still focused at some point beyond the hood of the car. "If you should find yourself in the position of having to tell me lethal force was required, I'll support your claim." She turned to look at him, her eyes focusing on his. "Just saying." Jace met Sam's serious gaze, the meaning of her words crystal clear to him. "Thanks. I hope Konnor and I are the ones to find this monster." He reached for the door handle. "Sam . . . what's going to happen to us now that outsiders know?" "I don't know. Nothing, with any luck. They've taken an oath of silence, but—" Sam paused and resumed staring out the window. "Well, you know how much I trust them. People, I mean." She took a deep breath and returned her attention to Jace. "Look, I know we've never been particularly close, and I'm probably even higher on your shit list after that business with the murdered clergy a few months back. I didn't have any choice but to haul you in, and I figured better for me to do it instead of some stranger. But despite that, and despite the crap between Jericho and me, you guys are my family. So, right now I don't give a good crap about Salem or the rest of the world. I want to get Fallon back in one piece, and that's the only thing I care about."

"You're all right in my book," Jace said. "We consider you part of our family, too, and my melodramatics aside, I know you didn't have any choice. You put yourself on the line for us every day, and I'm grateful. We all are, and if any bad shit goes down because of this we aren't going to forget and abandon you." Jace gave her pat on the leg. "Now, let's get out there, find Fallon, and go the fuck home. Gennady has me worried; I've never seen him like this before." A double pounding on the trunk of the car intruded, and Jace turned around to see Rhett giving him the hurry-up eyebrow. Jace waved to Rhett and elbowed Sam. "Your new partner is getting restless." "This hunter we're after?" Sam opened her door and grinned. "Wouldn't want to be him."

Chapter Forty-Three The short distance turned into an endurance marathon for Fallon. Already tired and hungry, he plodded on with his fox nose drooped almost to the ground. They stopped several times along the trail, Fallon coming up with one excuse after another to rest, each time needing Casey to prod him into continuing on. The burrows Casey had dug came into view as the afternoon sun reached its zenith. The deep, dark holes in the mossy earth couldn't have looked more inviting. Casey's burrows were too small for a human, so Fallon stayed in his natural state and walked toward the nearest one. Sniffing, he took a step closer. A small rabbit exploded out of the hole. Fallon shrieked. The rabbit screamed. Casey pounced. Without so much as a snarl, he had the rabbit's throat torn out. He dropped the limp form to the ground, stuck out a wide paw and gave the rabbit several shoves. Apparently satisfied the critter was dead, Casey snagged the scruff of the rabbit's neck with his fangs and trotted his catch over to Fallon, dropping the gift at Fallon's trembling paws. Fallon hunted for fun on occasion, but with all his meals taken care of at home, he rarely put much effort into the chase and even more rarely came home with anything. Watching Casey spring into action had been exciting. Fallon nudged his nose against Casey's in thanks, his tail

swishing back and forth over the grass. He wasted no time diving in, amazed at how good the fresh-killed meat tasted. After tearing off a fair portion, he nosed the rest toward Casey. They'd both need their strength and something to quiet their growling stomachs for the hours of travel yet before them. Mewing like a contented kitten with a saucer full of milk, Casey dug into the rabbit, ripping off chunks of meat with surprising delicacy considering the brute strength of the pounce that had felled the meal. Fallon ate his fill and licked his muzzle clean. He politely waited outside the perimeter of Casey's personal space for the werelynx to finish, sneaking glances at the burrows. His full belly and the hot sun beating down made the promise of sleep incredibly enticing. With little left of the rabbit but bones and tough cartilage, Casey dragged the carcass into a nearby thicket. He dug a hole and buried the remains. On his way back toward Fallon, he shifted into his human body, picking at his teeth with a fingernail. "Should get a drink and take care of your personal business, and then you need to get some shut-eye." Casey ruffled the fur on Fallon's head. Fallon followed Casey to the brook, his four paws becoming two feet. "You're so at ease in this place. How long have you been out here on your own?" "I don't know exactly." Casey dropped to his knees next to the brook. He cupped his hands, scooped up some water, and took a good long drink. "I was nine when they dumped me here. "So, about twelve years, I reckon. I stopped marking time a long while ago." Fallon joined him at the water but didn't drink. The words stunned him and he cocked his head, looking sideways at Casey. "Dumped you? You mean your family left you here on purpose?" Casey sat back on his heels and selected a fresh blade of grass. "Yeah. By then I even had a nickname: Jinx Jenkins." He snorted and pulled two more blades of grass from the edge of the water, both equal in size to the first. "When I was around six," Casey continued, "we went on a camping trip with another family who were friends of my folks'. They told me to stay near the campsite, but I didn't listen. A few hours after dark, I took off like a shot and went deeper and deeper into the woods." He fiddled with the three blades of grass, braiding them into a plait as he spoke. "A demon was holed up in a cave near the north ridge." He pointed in the direction they were headed. "Ugly son

of a bitch. He said he didn't like meat that wasn't aged sufficiently, so instead of eating me he cursed me. Adults become clumsy and reckless around me. They dropped things, broke stuff, and had generally poor judgment about everything." Casey tossed the plait into the brook and watched the grass float downstream. "My little sister had long hair, and I'd braid it for her when Mom was too busy. Carly liked the attention." He took a deep breath and rubbed each shoulder in turn against his eyes. "One day when Mom was walking down the stairs behind me, she dropped Carly on purpose. We rushed her to the hospital and she ended up okay, thank goodness, but Mom blamed me. Told me the accident with my sister was the last straw and they couldn't take it anymore." Casey stood. "Been here ever since. Can't hurt anybody when I'm all alone." Fallon stared at water's surface. He'd been so focused on his own misery, the thought never occurred to him that Casey might have a painful history hiding behind those bright eyes. "I'm sorry. It must've been terrible out here, all alone for so many years." Fallon put a hand on Casey's shoulder. "You should come home with me and stay with my family. We're sort of an odd bunch, but we're happy. We wouldn't mind a few things breaking. Happens all the time, anyway, with my tail swishing all about." "Nah." Casey grinned. "I love living out here. Don't have to follow anybody's rules but my own." Wrapping a big hand around the back of Fallon's neck, Casey gave a gentle but firm squeeze. "Get a good drink, have a piss, and then pick yourself a comfy burrow." Casey took a quick sniff of the air and smiled. "No more fuzzy bunnies lurking around."

Chapter Forty-Four Dubai lay far behind them, beyond the vast expanse of the North Atlantic. The shields were lowered on the aircraft's windows. Michael Hayes slept like a baby for most of the trip in the plane's opulent bedroom, his belly full and lust sated—the deep, dark slumber of the newborn undead. Jericho rolled onto his side, spooned behind his creation and gave a gentle shake. "Michael, we're almost there," he said into Michael's right ear. He smiled, and with a fang he gave the new diamond stud in Michael's earlobe a playful tug. "We need to get ready."

Chapter Forty-Five The 747 landed shortly after sunset, three hours late due to a refueling delay at Heathrow. Jericho adjusted his watch back to Eastern Daylight Time. He slid the shield up to expose the window beside his seat and looked out over the tarmac. As the plane taxied to the terminal, Jericho chuckled. Michael had expressed disappointment because of the delay in general, but more specifically because they now had no need to use the top-of-the-line coffins in the plane's cargo hold in order to leave the airport. Jericho smiled, making a mental note to engage Michael in some kinky, funeral-parlor or cemetery sex in the near future. Once the flight attendants opened the doors, Jericho climbed down the steps, dialing Sam's cell number before his feet hit the asphalt. He looked around the airport grounds and listened as Sam's phone rang, surprised on two counts. One, that Sam hadn't answered her phone halfway through the first ring and wasn't already bitching at him for missing his registration deadline. Two, that there weren't any Salem squad cars waiting for him when the plane landed. Sam had found out where he'd run off to, so he was shocked there wasn't a police escort waiting for any flight coming in from the Middle East. Sam's phone clicked over to voice mail, and Jericho ended his call. Michael was already ensconced in the back of the limousine. The closest door to Jericho on the stretch BMW was held open by a tall, handsome black man wearing an expensive Armani suit. Jericho walked casually toward him, gave him the once-over. The way the man stood—shoulders squared, eyes forward at attention—screamed ex-military. By the blinding shine of the man's shoes and the impeccable creases in the trouser legs, Jericho guessed U.S. Marines. Jericho dipped his head politely at Michael's bodyguard and climbed into the car. The door closed immediately behind him, the probable ex-Marine slid into the front passenger seat, and the driver sped off toward Salem.

Chapter Forty-Six

The second nightfall since Fallon's abduction brought cool night breezes and a familiar array of nocturnal sounds. Curled beside Casey in a tight ball, Fallon slept soundly. When he woke, he uncoiled his body, stretching his front paws out with his toes digging into soft, cool earth. His long, pink tongue curled in a yawn. Refreshed from his nap, Fallon nudged Casey with his nose. Moonlight poured into the small burrow. As Casey stirred and stretched, Fallon crawled through the narrow tunnel toward the surface. He sniffed at the crisp night air before poking his head outside. The orchestra of crickets, frogs, and nocturnal birds ceased. Fallon froze, his eyes riveted on the sky. Low and nearly full, the moon scraped its belly on the horizon of endless trees. In the time it took him to register the thought, a set of talons dug deep into the fur at his neck and plucked him effortlessly from the hideout. The journey upward seemed to go on forever until he was eye to eye with the beast. Massive in its in-between form, the werewolf stood upright, looming like a living mountain. A smile curled pink lips and the creature blinked, holding Fallon directly in front of its frightening face. "Well, hello there, little one. Long time, no see." Fallon started to change, and with arms longer than fox legs yet not quite human, he swiped at the werewolf with sharp claws. "Who are you?" Fallon's throat felt dry and tight. He somehow knew in his gut the identity of the beast. "Put me down." The fur on the back of Fallon's neck stood on end as long-buried memories began to surface, memories of bone-crushing jaws and ripping claws. "Or you'll do what?" The werewolf tightened its grip, cocked its head, and leered with a hideous grin. "You've got your momma's eyes, boy. Same scared shade of blue." Fallon felt the blood rush from his face. "Mom." He remembered his mother—her blue eyes, sweet smile, and her long, beautiful black hair. He remembered the snowy night and something rushing at the car, shoving them off the road. The groan of bending metal and the smell of wet fur. Screaming—the horrible screaming. The smell of clean snow. The sharp stench of fuel. The sickening sounds of flesh and bone being ripped apart. Fallon whimpered and struggled. "You killed her."

"Tasty little morsel." The werewolf's grip tightened further, and he pulled Fallon closer to his face and took a lingering sniff. "I would've had me another nice bite if not for that damn vampire." A long, flat tongue flicked out and licked the tip of Fallon's nose. "A long time to wait for such a special snack." Drool dripped from the beast's mouth. With a crunch of bones it changed and the snout grew longer, the jaws opening wide. About to clamp down, the werewolf suddenly yelped and Fallon hit the ground. Casey's long feline fangs were sunk deep into the werewolf's left calf. Adrenaline kicking in, Fallon rolled to his feet. "How did you find me?" Fallon cried out, launching at the towering werewolf as the monster reached down to swat at Casey. Casey clamped his teeth on the fleshy underside of the werewolf's palm. With an otherworldly howl, the werewolf reared up on its hind legs then dropped onto all fours. Now fully transformed, it snarled and backed away. After fluidly transforming to human, Casey darted toward the north. "Move it, Fallon, move it!" With pure fear driving him, Fallon returned to his full fox form and bolted for the woods. Under, over, around anything in his path, he ran as fast as his legs would take him. The crashing of woods behind him continuously grew louder, closer, and Fallon thought he felt the werewolf's teeth snapping at the end of his tail. With his ears pinned to his head, he summoned the strength to run even faster, and before long he lost all sense of direction and continued blindly forward in the dark. On and on for miles he ran, until finally the terrible sounds behind him ceased. Feeling as if his heart were about to burst, he eventually slowed down to regain his bearings. A human male, naked and sweating, stepped out from the thick bushes. Fallon jumped, spooked by the sudden appearance of a man so deep in the woods. He'd not seen the pursuing werewolf's human form so he didn't know for sure, but at this point all strangers were suspect. Fallon peeled his lips back into a snarl and laid his ears flat to his head, taking a backward step away from the man. The tall, dark-haired man squatted at the stream, scooped some water and splashed his face. He ran a hand over his stubble and glanced at Fallon. "Get yourself lost, little one?" The man wet his hair, scooped more water and took a drink. "See, that's the problem. Too many of us

have gone soft and become too civilized. Such weakness will be the end of us all one day, you mark my words." Fallon looked over his shoulder, making sure he had a clear shot to freedom should the man attack. Confident he could make a dash if needed, Fallon melted from fox to young man, a bit less fluid than before as the numerous changes began to tire him. He remained crouched at the water's edge. "Is that why you're after me? You think because I'm a city dweller that makes me weak? Cities are jungles of another sort, mister." The man chuckled. "Right. You've been raised behind veritable fortress walls with a silver spoon in your mouth. I'm after you like I've been after the rest of your disgusting ilk all these years. Thinning the herd, so to speak. A few of us recognize the need to start over, to rid the gene pool of the despicable weakness the likes of you have bred into our races by now." "My mother wasn't even a shifter! She was human!" Fallon snarled, his shoulders hunched with the urge to attack. "That's the goddamn point, half-breed! You soft, polluted mongrels are everywhere, growing in numbers with each passing year. And now that your precious, vampire sugar-daddy has decided on behalf of us all that we need to assimilate with human society, this deplorable situation will only worsen!" The man rose, but as he took a threatening step forward his legs were knocked out from under him by the barreling form of werelynx Casey. Casey growled, shifting halfway as he turned for another pass. "Go, Fallon! I'll be right behind you!" Distraught, Fallon tried to return to his fox form but only managed to make the transition partway. With no time to risk another attempt, he scrambled from the riverside, plowing into the tangle of woods. The half-form proved clumsy and much slower, too large to fit under toppled trees and not nimble enough to sail overtop shrubs and heavy brush. Fatigue set in fast, mingled with grief, and Fallon's eyes filled with tears. In his haste and through a blur of tears, he tripped over an unearthed root and fell hard, cutting his tongue on his teeth as his jaw smacked into unforgiving earth. The momentum sent him rolling down the last steep slope before he came to rest inside the outer tree line of the park.

Chapter Forty-Seven "Okay, Sam. We'll keep pushing north." Konnor clicked off the radio and leaned back against a tree, tired and breathless from traversing rugged terrain in his human form. His throat screamed for water, his muscles for rest. "I need to take a break for a few minutes." "Are you sure you don't want to change?" Jace stood several yards ahead, his long snout sniffing the trail left by Fallon and friend. "The scent is here but already growing cold. The rain last night didn't do us any favors. Could use the extra nose." "Yeah, good idea." Konnor slid his back down the tree to sit at its base. "I don't think we're going to run into anyone out here. Even if we do, I don't give a shit at this point. Give me a few minutes, okay?" More agile on all fours than upright, Jace wandered over to Konnor and butted his head against his brother's shoulder. "Breathe. We've hiked up half a damn mountain. We won't be any good to Fallon if we keel over from exhaustion or get hurt." Konnor smiled and gave Jace a good, hard scratch along the back of the neck. "I'm all right, Nanny Barton—I just need a short rest. You could probably use one yourself." He looked toward the sky, into the bright full moon leaking light through the trees as the Vermont State Police chopper whizzed by overhead. Once the helicopter passed and the noise died down, Konnor turned to Jace. "What the hell's going on? We go twenty-some years without a single incident, and now the last few months I feel like we're living in the goddamn Twilight Zone. I don't understand." "I don't know, Konnor. I feel like something has shifted, like the peace Gennady has worked so hard to sow has been uprooted. I have to wonder if these events are somehow linked." Jace rested his head on Konnor's knee. "Being here with you in the wilderness makes that time in the Black Hills seem like yesterday. Only this time we're doing the hunting." Konnor caressed Jace's brow with a gentle touch. "This isn't anywhere near as bad. At least it's cool and shady here, and there's plenty of water. I thought I was going to die in the Dakota heat that summer." He kissed Jace's muzzle. "A wonder you didn't kill me for all my bitching and moaning." "I thought about it, but being alone out there didn't appeal to me." Jace pawed Konnor's face, careful to keep his claws away from fragile human skin. He drew back with a grunt. "Sam

spoke to me before we left. She said if we get this creep alone out here, she'll look the other way if he happens to have a fatal accident." Konnor nodded. "I figured that might be the topic of your conversation. Jace, I want you to let me do it when the time comes." "You?" Jace cocked his head. "Are you sure?" "Yes, I'm sure." Jaw set, eyes clear, Konnor looked determined. "Fallon is our adopted brother, but he's also my best friend, and I let him down. I shouldn't have let him go out alone, knowing about Father's premonition. I owe it to both of them to take care of this monster personally. I need to do this." "Hmm." Jace considered forbidding Konnor's wish, but changed his mind. Konnor needed the self-esteem boost, and Jace would be there in case anything went wrong. "All right. If the situation gets out of hand, you say something. Understand?" Konnor never forgot his place in their small familial pack. He stopped petting Jace's brow, dropped his hands to his sides, and lowered his gaze. "I would like to take the killing strike —if I can—and I welcome your assistance." Jace's lips quivered at Konnor turning inward. "Konnor, you've always supported me. Even in our darkest hour, your faith in me never wavered. Maybe it's time I let you find your strength." Jace skimmed his clawed fingers over Konnor's cheek, a gentle caress. "Change form and take point. You should be out in front when we find this bastard. The best killing strike might be an ambushing first blow." "Right. I don't want to toy with this guy. I want to end him and go home." Konnor nudged Jace off his lap, rose to his feet and began undressing. He grabbed the radio from the pocket of his jeans and gave it a toss, and Jace snatched the device in flight. Using Konnor's discarded belt, Jace fastened the radio to his left arm. "We need to put this dog down. I have a bad feeling about the whole damn situation. I'd hoped John Banks would be the last of our troubles for a while, but this came too quick on the heels of that disaster for me to assume coincidence. I only hope we aren't facing a fucking hydra—cut one head off, more grow in its place." "I have the same bad feeling." Konnor shoved his jeans under a bush, out of sight, along with his shoes and socks and shirt. "And I'm disturbed that Jericho is somehow involved in this." Konnor knelt and braced on the ground with his palms. He looked at Jace once more and

gave a wan smile. Unlike Jace, Konnor rarely shifted, finding the process distasteful and preferring his human form. The whole transformation took only a few moments, but the agony in Konnor's muffled wails made the seconds drag on for what seemed an eternity. After pacing throughout Konnor's ordeal at a distance, Jace moved in and bathed the blood from Konnor's face with his tongue. "Keep your anger hot, little brother. The wind has shifted, and the scent from the north is fresh. Fallon is close." Konnor grunted, and with his nose to the ground he took the lead and moved with urgent speed through the forest. He stopped, lifted his head and growled low in his throat, clear indication to Jace that Konnor had zeroed in on Fallon. The heavy scent led to a hilly, grassy area bordered by a brook and a cluster of small, mossy burrows. He looked over his shoulder at Jace. "I can smell him all over the moss. He must've slept here for a while. Some sort of shifter cat left its scent, too." Jace scanned the area. His lips twitched when he found something he'd hoped not to discover during their search. "Konnor. Something else was here—something big. Look at these huge footprints. These have to be from our werewolf." He took a deep breath. "I don't see any blood." "I hope that's good news." Konnor loped over to Jace and sniffed the prints thoroughly. He curled his lips in a close approximation of a sneer, lifting his head to look at Jace. "This is fresh, and it smells like dinner. Let's go." The radio fastened to Jace's forearm crackled, the distinct sound of Sam's voice trying to break through interference. Jace pressed the button with the tip of a long claw. "Sam, we've found Fallon's trail and apparently the werewolf's, too. Where are you and Rhett?" Sam sounded distant and tinny. "We're almost back to I-89. Rhett says he didn't see a damn thing other than rabbit and deer tracks that were fresh, and some days-old bobcat tracks. None were shifters. My guys and the park rangers are already back at the cars and report nothing out of the ordinary. Hang on—" The transmission silenced for a few seconds before coming back to life. "State Trooper in the bird overhead says he's spotted some commotion about a half mile south of the highway, but he can't get below the canopy to get a better look. If this is Fallon, it looks like he's coming straight through the center of the park. Over." "We're coming to the center now, as close as I can tell." Jace looked at Konnor, and

Konnor nodded. "With any luck, we'll be breaking through the trees shortly. Konnor and I are both in demon form, so you might want to remind anyone with guns that we're the good guys. See you on the other side, Detective. Over and out." Jace shut off the radio, dropped to all fours and grunted his readiness for the final stage of the hunt to begin. Konnor bent lower to the ground and inhaled a deep breath through his nose. "The bastard's stink is all over the place here," he said, "and I've picked up Fallon's scent again." He snorted at the leaves and soil one more time then took off at breakneck pace, heading fast and straight for the thinning trees ahead.

Chapter Forty-Eight Dazed by the fall, Fallon gradually opened his eyes. His entire body felt battered. He was covered in dirt, and his tongue throbbed from having been bitten. If not for the sight of the giant wolf, Fallon would've closed his eyes and given up. Tightly strung fear found a small reserve of adrenaline and forced him into action. The wolf seemed occupied with something on the ground, and Fallon could hear voices nearby, on the other side of the thick line of trees. He'd have to rush past the wolf, but if only he could make it to the voices . . . . Still in a half-shifted state, Fallon took slow, quiet steps on all fours and inched his way along the ground toward the sounds of people. With a loud grunt and a grimace, the werewolf morphed to its halfway form. "You might want to see this, little one." A delicate chain made of white gold with an unusual pendant attached dangled from his long, gnarled fingers. The werewolf curled its lips back from the muzzle in an evil smile. "Look familiar?" Fallon froze, unable to look away from the necklace. The thin, elegant chain with the jade lotus flower pendant had belonged to his mother. She'd worn the necklace constantly since the day Fallon's father had gone missing, including the day of the car accident that took her life. "Give it to me." Fallon took a brazen step forward, anger renewing his strength and resolve. "You filthy monster! You have no right touching that!" The werewolf tossed the necklace to the ground at Fallon's feet with a contemptuous

chuckle. "Go ahead, take it. You can put it around your neck before I kill you. Reminds me of old times—you look just like the stupid, human bitch." Fallon knelt to retrieve his mother's necklace, and as his claws closed around the chain the fury inside him boiled over. He slipped the necklace over his head and took another step toward the werewolf. With his fangs bared he lunged, snapping his jaw around the loose, furred skin of the werewolf's neck, digging his claws into the monstrous shoulders. The werewolf snarled and thrashed, tossing Fallon to the ground like a rag doll. With a vicious roar it shifted into full animal form and reared back, powerful legs catapulting the creature off the ground toward Fallon. Movement out of the corner of Fallon's eye caught his attention, and he stood shellshocked as he watching Konnor, in demon form, come barreling out of the woods. Konnor leaped over Fallon, sank his teeth into the werewolf's throat and wrestled it to the ground. The werewolf howled, the sound of agony, the noise of snapping bones echoing off the trees. Panicked beyond rational thought, Fallon struggled to his feet and ran away from the fight. He could hear the snap and crunch of bones in concert with outraged snarls until his heartbeat drowned out everything else. Something huge surged out of the woods and tried to swipe at him and Fallon yelped. In a miraculous move, he ducked the claws and bolted through the trees toward the highway sounds and shouting people. The voices became louder the instant Fallon shot out of the woods. Red and blue strobes of light confused him, but he thought he heard the sound of Sam Wright's voice and took several leaping bounds in that direction. He looked down but took too long to register the fact the natural forest floor had become asphalt under his feet. Brakes squealed, people screamed, metal crashed and crunched. A sharp, biting pain exploded in Fallon's right hip. His small, unstable feet swept out from under him and he hurtled through the air. ***** The Vermont State Police car skidded sideways after striking Fallon, and Sam scurried over the hood. "Oh my God! Henry!"

She knelt beside Fallon's still form and pressed two fingers to his neck. The trooper driving the car backed up once Sam slid off, and Dr. Sherman squeezed between its front grille and that of another vehicle. He dropped to his knees, snapping open his bag. A growling, snarling, howling racket came close, but the doctor kept his eyes Fallon. Sam stood, watching dumbstruck with everyone else as all hell broke loose before her eyes. Konnor burst through the trees onto the road with an enormous wolf in his jaws, and he shook his massive head back and forth like a cat playing with a dying mouse. He slammed the beast to the ground with enough force to shake the road, and he pressed a huge hand against the struggling wolf's chest, pinning it immobile against the ground. After screaming an unearthly sound to the star-filled night sky, Konnor bowed his head and lunged downward, impaling the snarling beast through the gut with his spiraled horns. Jace burst through the trees onto the highway, shoulders bunched and jaws snapping. He circled Konnor, watching. The moment the huge wolf's gurgled breath ceased, Jace pounced. He dug his teeth into the hairy beast's thigh and ripped, tearing the femoral artery for good measure. Konnor wrenched his horns from the wolf's lifeless body. "Nice work, Anula." Jace smiled at Konnor. Returning the compliment using Jace's true demon name as well, Konnor said, "Thank you, Veli." The kill accomplished, Konnor and Jace lumbered over to Sam, and holding hands they reverted to their handsome, dark-haired human forms. Rhett limped toward the group, two sets of blue police coveralls in his hands. "Can't have you running around without a stitch on, now can we? We need to show these folks that we supernaturals have a sense of decency." He handed the one-piece garments to Jace and Konnor. "Good job, boys. I'll supervise the proper disposition of the werewolf remains." Standing on either side of Sam, Jace and Konnor tugged on the coveralls while staring at Fallon. "Doc?" Sam swallowed, silently praying. "His pulse is strong," Dr. Sherman said, "but I'm concerned he's not coming around as fast as I'd like. I'm fairly sure he has a broken leg, and as hard as he got hit—and not knowing what in blazes has happened to him since he was nabbed—I can't rule out internal injuries. We

need to get him to a hospital with a trauma center. Preferably a close one." Sam shouted at no one in particular. "Anyone, where's the nearest major hospital?" A nearby State Trooper pointed westward. "Mountain View Medical Center, ma'am. About twenty miles west in Burlington. Level I shock trauma." "Get on the horn and tell them we need a MedEvac chopper, stat," Sam said to the trooper. "Whatever their protocols are for a secretive entrance, we need them in place immediately. Tell them we have a television celebrity injured in a car accident." Sam turned to the doctor. "Henry, what do you need?" "Radiologist." Dr. Sherman continued monitoring Fallon's pulse. "An OR, in case. Two triage nurses and a trauma surgeon on-call." "Make it happen," Sam told the trooper, who ran at top speed back to his car. Fallon rolled his head slightly to one side and his eyelids began to flutter. Moaning in obvious pain, he moved one hand across his chest until his clawed fingers clutched a small pendant. Sam dropped to her knees, accompanied by both Jace and Konnor. Fallon touched Konnor's arm and looked up with tired, bloodshot eyes. "Konnor," Fallon whispered. "Get 'Nady."

Chapter Forty-Nine The State Police helicopter touched down on a section of the hospital parking lot blocked off for line re-painting. Two nurses—one male, one female—stood outside the sawhorse barricades to greet them. The hospital status had been set to Code VIP, indicating an injured celebrity required treatment. The alert severely restricted staff access to anyplace the celebrity needed to go. The VIP could be anyone from a famous movie star to an important political figure, even the President of the United States. Though not unaccustomed to special visitors, no one in the ski resort town would've ever suspected this. As soon as the skids settled on the ground, Konnor helped the flight paramedic lift Fallon's gurney out of the chopper. Dr. Sherman climbed out behind them and headed straight for

the nurses.

Chapter Fifty "Can't you move this thing any faster, Sam?" Jace growled, his eyes glued to the road as cars scattered in all directions to escape the path of the speeding police car. Due to the helicopter's restrictions on weight, Jace had been forced to stay on the ground and take the slower route to the hospital. "We need to call Gennady. He needs to know we located Fallon." "I called Sariel while you were helping to load Fallon onto the MedEvac. They're on their way. I called in a favor to one of the chopper pilots on the Massachusetts State Police force. He's got a small private bird that he parks at the little airfield over in Beverly." Sam took her eyes off the dark road for a second and glanced at Jace. "You've got something really disgusting hanging off your left ear." Jace plucked at his ear with his fingers and came away with a bloody clump of matted werewolf fur. He lowered the window and flicked away the gore. "Poor Father; he must be a wreck. I'm glad Sariel stayed with him." Jace drummed his fingers on the car door. "Are Konnor and I in deep shit, Sam? I know you gave us the okay privately, but I assume the rest of the cops on the scene weren't in on that deal." Sam stepped harder on the gas pedal, the Malibu's engine protesting under the stress. "My crew isn't a problem. The others I've sworn to secrecy, so I'm banking on the thin blue line—the law enforcement brotherhood is pretty tight. No guarantees, though." She sighed. "We'll find out when the incident hits the media. Your victim tonight wasn't exactly Mr. Joe Nobody. A famous billionaire gone missing isn't likely to escape the news." She slid another sideways glance at Jace. "You guys never do anything small, do you?"

Chapter Fifty-One Alternating light and darkness danced behind Fallon's closed eyes. He held Konnor's hand as the nurse pushed him on the gurney away from the emergency room.

Then he was alone, surrounded by harsh lights and strangers. Only Dr. Sherman's voice sounded familiar to him, becoming his lifeline. Caught in a between-form, he attempted to change the rest of the way to his human body to assist the doctors, but he felt incredible pain in his hip as that part of him tried to reconfigure and shift. Now he lay panting, his eyes snapping wide open and wild as men and women around him prepared some huge, scary machine. He wrapped his tail around his hip, snagging Dr. Sherman's hand as the man walked by. "Doc, what's happening?" Dr. Sherman smiled and took Fallon's hand in a firm and reassuring grip. "We need to do an MRI, Fallon, to make sure you don't have any internal injuries and to see how badly your leg is broken. It's like an X-ray, only better and safer. You won't feel anything, but you'll have to lie still for about half an hour. Once we read the results, we'll know what we have to do to make you well enough to travel safely back to Salem." "Is Gennady here yet?" Fallon let out sad, shrill whine. "I wish they'd let Konnor come in." "Gennady is on his way." Dr. Sherman patted Fallon's shoulder. "He might even be here by the time your MRI is finished." The nurses from the parking lot approached Fallon's gurney. Dr. Sherman waved to them. "Fallon, these nurses are going to move you to the platform now. I know this seems scary, but I swear it won't hurt at all. No different than lying on a floor for half an hour." Dr. Sherman pointed to the glass booth on the far side of the room. "After we strap you in, the nurses and I will be in the booth over there with the technicians. We'll be able to hear you and you'll be able to hear us, but—" "You're going to strap me down?" Fallon, panic rising in his voice, began to flail. The blip of the heart monitor increased, pinging loud and fast. The nurses rushed over, each taking one of Fallon's arms, and they eased him back down to the gurney. Fallon clamped his eyes closed. "I want Konnor! Konnor!" "Nurse Reed, " Dr. Sherman said, his voice calm. "Will you please go to the waiting area and tell Mr. Konnor Barton he's needed in here at once?" He took Fallon's hand in his again, and he stroked the back of it in the same direction the fur grew. "Easy, Fallon. The straps are necessary so you don't accidentally move and mess up the pictures. If it'll be easier for you, we can make an exception and pull a chair close so Konnor can sit with you. Will that help?"

Fallon let out another piercing whine. He pressed his face against Henry's arm. "I need Konnor." ***** After loading down Konnor with hygiene supplies and finding him a place to wash up and change into a set of clean scrubs, Nurse Reed escorted him into the MRI enclosure. She looked at Fallon somewhat curiously, but she smiled at him before she departed and shut the door behind her. Dr. Sherman stood at Fallon's side, along with a male nurse. Konnor went to Fallon and smiled. "You really need a shave." Fallon's furry face lit up, his wagging tail thwacking the gurney hard. "Konnor! I'm so glad you're here!" With Konnor's assistance, the nurse was able to get Fallon into position for the MRI with no more trouble. Once the machine started, Fallon relaxed to the thrum of the amazing machine and appeared to fall asleep. Konnor clasped his hands together and trapped them between his knees, the temptation to hold Fallon's hand or to smooth fur back from Fallon's eyes too great. "I'm so sorry I let you down," Konnor said, barely audible over the whirs and clicks and clanks of the machine. "I'll never let anything like this happen again." He swiped at the sting in his eyes and let out a slow, controlled breath. "Felt good taking out the werewolf tonight, damn good, and that scares the hell out of me. Jace has never fought against what he is, and hasn't he always seemed happier?" Konnor sighed before continuing. "I don't know, Fallon. Maybe none of us should be trying so hard to become something we weren't meant to be."

Chapter Fifty-Two The limousine ride into Salem had been mostly silent. As most newborns were prone to do, Michael slept. Jericho pressed the button to raise the smoky privacy glass separating the driver and

bodyguard from the spacious rear compartment. He smoothed Michael's hair back, smiling at him, as he dialed Sam's cell phone number. The phone rang twice. "Detective Wright." "Sam?" Jericho turned his back to Michael. He lowered his voice. "What's wrong? You sound funny." Jericho heard a long, drawn-out sigh through the phone. "Well, it's been a real fucking amusing couple of days. Where the hell are you?" "Salem," Jericho said. "Pulling up to Father's house as we speak." "Nobody's home." Sam's voice sounded curt, distant, and angry. "Sam? You're scaring me." "Good." "Sam—" "Everyone is all right, thank God." Another sharp sigh buzzed the connection. "Jericho, you need to go straight to the station and turn yourself in. It'll be so much harder on everyone involved if you don't do this voluntarily. For once in your life, please listen to me and do the right thing." Jericho heard a loud swallow and a sniffle. He knew Sam well enough to know she didn't cry unless she had a damn good reason. He'd been one of those damn good reasons once, and he knew the controlled, choking-it-back sound of her crying all too well. He looked at beautiful Michael sleeping on the leather seat beside him. "I have a bit of a complication here, Sam." After a long pause, Sam finally spoke, and Jericho couldn't help but smile. She did know him better than anyone. "What have you done now?" "I've sired a new vampire. I have a son." Another agonizing pause ensued. "This would be a super time for you to tell me you're joking." "Sorry. I can't leave him alone, Sam. It's too soon." Jericho gazed out the car window at the house. The old mansion appeared oddly vacant and quiet, not lit up like a beacon in the dark of night like usual. "It's a dangerous for him right now. I'm open to suggestions." Sam sighed. "Did Gennady ever demolish the basement cells he built for the twins when he first brought them home?"

Jericho winced. "No. They're still there." "Then lock your spawn up." Sam sounded decisive. "I'll let Gennady know, and we'll take care of him for you. After you cage him, go straight to the station. Tell them I said—" Sam's voice broke a little. "Tell them I said Lieutenant Greenwalt should process you. She's from a old witch family immune to vampire bespellment." Jericho snorted. "Don't trust me?" "Never have, never will." The connection went dead. Jericho returned the phone to his jacket pocket. He placed a hand on Michael's cheek and caressed soft, cool skin. "There are far worse prisons in the world," he whispered, "than Gennady Zaitsev's gilded cage."

Chapter Fifty-Three In the helicopter cockpit, the pilot talked to the hospital via radio, making last-minute arrangements before touching skids to ground. Sariel leaned over the narrow aisle between him and Gennady and placed a stilling hand on the vampire's bouncing knee. "Won't be much longer." Sariel watched out the window as the hospital came into view. No souls cried out to him from the buildings, so the Angel of Death wasn't currently visiting any patients inside. The helicopter landed with a bump and the rotors began to spin slower. Gennady took one of Sariel's hands in his. "Will you stay with me?" "Of course, I will." Sariel had known Gennady for longer than he could accurately recall, and never in all those hundred of years had he seen fear so plainly written upon his friend's face. Pain and worry darkened Gennady's eyes like a brewing storm, and Sariel wished his angelic nature gave him power to undo that which had been set into motion. The situation seemed likely to worsen for supernaturals as a whole after this night. For Gennady, having unilaterally authorized exposition of the existence of supernaturals outside of Salem city limits would surely require his resignation as president of the Special Council, at the very least—an unfortunate turn of events for them all.

Sariel gave Gennady's hand a squeeze. "Come on. Time to go." A hospital rep met them at the chopper and hustled them inside. "I should've been stronger," Gennady said as they walked through automatic doors. "I shouldn't have been so selfish to believe I alone could change things." "You've done great work, Gennady. The citizens of Salem are by-and-large happy, and all your boys have turned out well. I know of no else who could've taken two feral demons and turned them into productive members of a civilized community." Sariel glanced at the receptionist behind the welcome desk, and without pausing their progress he filled her mind with a silent question. The woman blinked at Sariel once with a surprised expression. She pointed toward the hallway on the left. Sariel continued. "You made a fresh start for all of us. You can't control the fact powers greater than your own exist, and possibly with an agenda far less benevolent. We'll deal with that later. Right now, only Fallon matters." Gennady stopped walking and stared down at the worn tile floor. "I can't do this anymore, Sariel. I can't keep making choices between what's best for the world as a whole and those I call my own. I want an easier life for them than I had, and I'd do anything to protect them. Anything." He looked at Sariel, the need for absolution apparent in his eyes. "Is that so wrong?" Despite Gennady's chronological age of over five hundred years, the vampire's physical age still resembled that of a beautiful seventeen-year-old boy, making his distress seem so much more poignant. Sariel ran his hand down the long length of Gennady's shiny black hair. "Your judgment lies not in my hands, Gennady." And I'm not sure if I'm thankful for that or not. Gennady's admission would certainly seal his fate and ban him from any present or future position on the Special Council. The members had all sworn to protect the whole before the select. "I think the best thing for you to do is focus your love and energies on your children for a while. There's been far too much negative attention on the Zaitsev household lately." "Angels." Gennady smiled. "Always the impartial observers." He gripped Sariel's shoulder and gave him a firm, fond squeeze. "No matter, my old friend. I'm long overdue for stepping down. I lost any hope of impartiality when the twins came into my life. I'm surprised I've been able to hang on this long." They resumed their trek to Fallon's room and halted when they arrived at the door. "Thank you, Sariel." Gennady offered a hint of a smile. "You should go now. I've made

my choice, but you're not bound to accompany my resignation with your own." Sariel sighed. "All right. I sense you and Fallon are in good hands here. I want you to know, I'll remain on the Special Council only for the purpose of being your eyes and ears after your departure. Make sure Rhett and Dekin know not to speak of their participation in this event. Losing you and them from the Council in a single blow would sway too much power in Fiona's direction. I don't trust her." Gennady pressed a palm to Fallon's door. "I believed so strongly that assimilation was the wiser path." He cast a glance back at Sariel. "Now I'm not so sure."

Chapter Fifty-Four Fallon felt miserable. Back in his fully human form after an inordinately slow transformation, he lay prone and hooked to various machines monitoring his heart rate and other vital signs. Konnor stood at the bedside holding his hand, but even Fallon's best friend's comforting presence did little to chase away fresh fear. With his leg in a cast to above the hip Fallon could barely move, and when the door opened and he turned his head to see, he wished he could run and leap straight into his visitor's arms. "Gennady!" Konnor looked relieved, and he gave Fallon a kiss on the cheek. "I'll be right outside," he said. "I'd better make sure Jace hasn't been scaring the shit out of and/or propositioning the nurses." "Look at you." Gennady smiled and sat on the edge of the bed after Konnor left the room. He cupped Fallon's torn but healing cheek with the cool palm of one hand. "All you've been through, and in your eyes I can see you're worried about me." Gennady leaned in and kissed Fallon tenderly. "I love you so much, you can't even begin to know." Fallon couldn't help it. All the worry, all the dreadful fear released and he began to sob. In Gennady's arms lived comfort. Comfort in the scent of Gennady's shampoo, in the way Gennady kissed him, in the knowledge they'd be home together soon. "I thought I'd never see you again." Fallon sniffled between words, hugging Gennady. "Finding my way home to you was all that kept me moving. I'm so sorry I strayed from the

house, and that I didn't listen to your dream." Gennady held Fallon in his arms. "It wasn't your fault, Fallon, and I swear nothing like this will ever happen again."

Chapter Fifty-Five Jericho hit the button to lower the privacy glass in the limo. The bodyguard turned around. "Sir?" "Will you carry Mr. Hayes inside, please?" The side door of the vehicle opened. The tall, black man with the impeccable posture and shiny shoes leaned inside and scooped Michael effortlessly off the seat. Jericho climbed the front steps to the porch and jammed his key into the lock. He swung the door open, stepped through the vestibule, and opened the inner door to the foyer. "Through the main hall and down the first staircase." Jericho watched as the bodyguard stepped inside. "Put him on the daybed inside the first cell. Be gentle with him." Jericho closed the door then followed closely behind. He dismissed the bodyguard with assurances Michael would be well cared for and would be in touch soon. Once he heard the front doors close again, Jericho slid the iron bars shut and locked the spacious cell. Stepping back, he kept his eyes on Michael, and he sagged against the facing stone wall. Whether from the sound of the cage door or sudden lack of motion, Michael twitched in his sleep and opened his eyes with obvious effort. "Jericho?" A perplexed expression settled on Michael's face. "Where are we? Why am I locked up?" Jericho took a few steps closer. "You'll be safe here, Michael. My father will be home soon, and he'll take care of you until you're able to function on your own. I have to turn myself in to the police." "The police . . . for the issue you spoke of in Dubai." Michael rose from the sofa and walked on unsteady legs to the bars. "Jericho, I have money. I can buy you out of this problem with ease." Jericho shook his head. "Money isn't the issue. Neither are the police. A few days, and I'll

be free and everyone will be happy." He took another step and curled the fingers of both hands around the bars. "I care about what happens to you. You need guidance. Gennady will get you started, and I'll be back in a few days." Fury danced across Michael's features. "You can't abandon me here! Damn you, Jericho!" Michael smacked the palms of his hands against the bars and began to pace, his head cocked to the side, listening. "There's no one else in the house. What if they never come back?" "They'll be back." Jericho leaned his forehead against the bars. "Gennady always comes back, and he will never lie to you." He took a step away from the barricade. "You can trust him, far more than you should've ever trusted me." He sat on the floor, his back against the hard wall of stone. "I supposed I could wait until someone arrives, but afterward I have to leave. I'm sorry, Michael." "But I'm already so hungry." Michael stopped pacing. "I should be grateful you stayed with me as long as you have. You've fulfilled your part of the bargain." "Our agreement and my moral obligation to you have little to do with each other." Jericho banged the back of his head against the stone. "You'll be fed, and fed well. My family will be home soon, and they'll become your family, too. Please lie down and try to rest in the meantime. I need to think."

Chapter Fifty-Six The ride home from Vermont the next evening proceeded in silence. Gennady had called for a limo once Fallon was released into his care, and the four of them—Konnor, Gennady, Fallon and Jace—nestled inside the comfortable vehicle. At close to one in the morning hardly any traffic shared the road, and the driver made good time. Jace cradled a sleeping Konnor against his chest and watched the world speed by. Gennady did the same while, holding Fallon. When the limousine pulled into the driveway of the Lafayette Street house in Salem, no light streamed from the windows. Jace saw neither Sam's nor Jericho's cars and became concerned. He nudged Konnor awake. "We're home." Yawning, Fallon opened his eyes and spoke in a sleepy, drug-slurred voice. "Did someone feed my goldfish while I was gone?"

Blinking awake, Konnor rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. "Ann was on fish duty, so I'm sure they're fine. She smacked Jace on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper yesterday morning when he was leering at them, though." "Liar." Jace smirked. Since the first pet fish were brought home for Fallon so many years ago, Jace had retained the label of potential goldfish eater. All in fun now, but Jace remembered how serious Fallon had been as a youngster. He felt a pang of sadness, wondering what lingering effects this experience might have on Fallon. The limo driver opened the wide passenger door and assisted everyone out of the car. Gennady put his arm around Fallon's waist to support him. "Jace, please find Jericho. Tell him I need to speak with him as soon as I make Fallon comfortable." ***** Sam had told Jace at the hospital that Jericho would incarcerate his newborn in the old cages in the basement before turning himself in. Jericho responsible for a fledgling vampire, Jace thought. What an idiot. He stood at the top of the staircase and took a few breaths. Jace despised the basement and never ventured down there alone. The cage—authentic, iron-barred prison cells built into the existing space—had been Jace and Konnor's living quarters during their breaking-in period when they'd first arrived. Vicious creatures, hulking monstrosities composed of fangs and claws, distrust and anger, they were completely unaccustomed to living in a house and dangerous to anyone who came near. The cells were an unfortunate necessity. Jace never blamed his adopted father for choosing that route, but facing the iron bars now still proved painful. Light crept up the stairs from below and Jace heard voices. "Jericho? We're home." He took the steps cautiously and paused at the bottom, pinpricks stabbing along his shoulder blades as his eyes took in the sight before him. Jericho had all the appearance of a broken doll resting against the wall beside the staircase. Across the room, behind the thick, black bars, stood an attractive man Jace didn't recognize. The cages themselves remained unchanged. Jericho looked at Jace with tired eyes perched above dark hollows. "Everyone all right?" "I guess that depends on your definition." Jace squatted next to Jericho. The vampire looked worse than Jace had ever seen, and he'd seen him plenty bad on several occasions. "We're

all alive. Everyone is more or less in one piece. Gennady took Fallon to their bedroom to settle him in. The kid went through a horrendous ordeal the past few days." "I'm sorry I wasn't here." Jericho lowered his chin to his chest. "I've really fucked things up, Jace, and this time I'm not sure I can fix it." Jace examined the cage. A handsome man, pale with wavy blond hair and hazel eyes, stared back at him with a hungry expression. "Hello." Michael continued to stare with unblinking eyes. "You should go," Jericho said to Jace. "I'll wait here until Father is available. I know how much you hate this place." "I'm all right. Father might be a few minutes; Fallon is drugged out of his gourd." Jace had his attention stolen away as the caged vampire began determined pacing. "Boy, does that look familiar. I'll bet there's still a trench in the concrete from the path I wore pacing in there." Michael stopped and returned to the bars. "Who are you?" Jericho climbed to his feet. "Michael, this is Jace Barton. He's my—" Jericho slid a sideways glance in Jace's direction, offering a gentle smile. "Jace is my brother." Sniffing the air, Michael raised an eyebrow and regarded Jericho, ignoring Jace. "I can smell his blood, but he's neither human nor vampire. May I have a taste?" Jace cleared his throat. "Okay . . . that's a little creepy." "Newborn vampire," Jericho told to Jace. "Similar to newborn human babies, they're hungry all the time. The trip home from the Middle East was long, and we had only two willing donors onboard. He needs to feed. Soon." Jace wrinkled his nose, uncomfortable with the situation. "I guess Father will know what to do." The sound of quick, light footsteps echoed through the large basement, and Gennady appeared suddenly at the foot of the stairs. "Jace, if you'll excuse us, please." "Yes, Father." Jace cast one last glance at Jericho and mouthed, "Good luck." Jace had been on the receiving end of Gennady's wrath several times, and he didn't envy Jericho now. He took the stairs two at a time and closed the door behind him. *****

Once the door closed, Gennady approached the cage. "My name is Gennady Zaitsev. Welcome to my home. I apologize for these introductory accommodations." He gave Michael a kind smile. "I assure you, your lodging conditions will soon improve." "Michael Hayes. You're the one they call Father?" Michael snorted. "Why, you're nothing but a teenager. Let me write you a check. Open the cage, let me go, and you'll never need to worry about me again." "Lesson number one: judge no one by appearance." Gennady's demeanor became stern. "I've seen five centuries come and go, and I have knowledge, experience, and resources you can't even begin to fathom. I have no need for your money, so do yourself a favor and don't insult me again." Gennady turned and cast a preemptive warning glare at Jericho to not speak until spoken to. Jericho didn't protest, sinking back against the wall. Returning his attention to Michael, Gennady said, "I would imagine you're quite hungry, aren't you?" Michael's lips visibly trembled and the tip of his tongue peeked out to lick them. "Yes. Can you help me?" Gennady heard Jericho creep up the stairs behind him. The door creaked open, and once he heard it close again Gennady stepped closer to the cage. "How long since you last fed, Michael?" "I don't know. Between time zone changes and getting used to sleeping during daylight hours, I'm disoriented. A full day, perhaps? I've lost track of time, and my gut feels like it's eating itself." "I know," Gennady said. "The first few days after turning are the most difficult, but I promise, I'll do my best to make the transition easier for you. I suggest confining your diet to human blood this early on. The blood of supernaturals is an acquired taste, as I'm sure Jericho will discuss with you at some point. For now, have you a preference for male or female? I have many experienced feeders at my disposal. I can have someone here within minutes for you." "I've only ever had Jericho when he turned me, and the two humans during the flight. God . . . I'm so hungry." Michael sounded far meeker than he had moments before. "Male. Someone strong, physically, and experienced enough to know when to make me stop. I'm not sure I can control my appetite yet. When will Jericho return?"

"Pardon me for a moment, Michael." Gennady turned his back to Michael and dug his cell phone out of the front pocket of his jeans. He hit a speed-dial number and pressed the phone to his ear. "Good evening, this is Gennady Zaitsev speaking. Is Lars available this evening on short notice?" After a slight pause Gennady spoke again. "Wonderful. Could you send him over immediately? And please inform him this will be a double, with the usual bonus compensation and after-care. Thank you." Gennady put the phone away, turned to face Michael and smiled. "Carryout. They always say fifteen minutes." Michael laughed. "Maybe this won't be so bad after all." ***** Konnor was sitting cross-legged beside Fallon on the bed when Gennady returned to the master bedroom. Fallon's broken leg, in the cast from ankle past hip, rested across several large pillows. "How is he?" Gennady shut the door behind him with care. "Still sleeping." Konnor caressed a few stray strands of hair away from Fallon's face. "He was so groggy when we brought him in, I'm not sure he even knows he's home yet." Gennady sat on the bed. No psychic abilities were required to notice the guilt written all over Konnor's face. "You need to stop blaming yourself for this, Konnor; it wasn't your fault. If anyone is to blame, I am." He put a comforting hand on Konnor's shoulder. "I'm beginning to realize perhaps I was remiss in putting us all out in the open. There are dangers I hadn't anticipated. I'm afraid I have a great deal of thinking to do." "But not tonight, Father." Konnor rose from the bed and placed a kiss on Gennady's forehead. "You can save the rest of us another day. You look tired." "Go be with Jace," Gennady said. "You've both been through an ordeal as well. We can talk tomorrow."

Chapter Fifty-Seven

After Konnor's departure, Gennady undressed and crawled into bed, snuggling close to Fallon. A sensation he'd not felt in hundreds of years stung his eyes. Tiny red droplets stained Fallon's white T-shirt. "I've never seen you cry." Fallon's voice sounded so small, dry and cracked. He moved in the slow, tentative manner of the heavily sedated and brushed a bloody tear from Gennady's cheek. "Am I really home or am I dreaming?" "No dream." Gennady nuzzled his nose against Fallon's neck. "You're safe now. How do you feel?" Fallon managed to wriggle closer. "Lucky." "We don't have to talk about it now," Gennady said with a soft smile, "but I do want to know everything that happened. For the time being, all I want to do is hold you and smell you and listen to you breathe." For a while they lay in each other's arms in the quiet darkness, saying nothing. Fallon eventually broke the silence. "Did everyone else make it home all right? I saw Konnor at the hospital, but I didn't see Jace. And I never saw what happened to Casey." Gennady nodded against Fallon's chest. "Jace is downstairs. He's fine, as is Konnor and everyone else. Is Casey your new friend? We could see a shadow on your portrait, accompanying you. At times the shape appeared human, other times feline." "Casey is a werelynx. He helped me so much, Gennady. I wouldn't have lasted the first night without him. I wish I could've thanked him. I lost sight of him during the last chase before . . . before I got—" "Shush." Gennady pressed a quieting finger to Fallon's lips. "Everything will be all right. Sam told me that during the commotion she saw a stocky gray cat slip back into the trees. She said the cat appeared uninjured, and she swore she saw it smiling. I can send someone to look for him, if you wish." "No. He wouldn't like anyone hunting him, even just to check on him. He says he likes his solitude. If Sam saw him, that's enough for me." Fallon tried to shift the weight of the cast and whimpered. "This thing on my leg is unbearable." "Dr. Sherman says you only need to wear the cast a few days to make sure the bones set properly, and your natural healing abilities will take over from there. There were no serious breaks, only hairline fractures, but there were many. I could call one of the local witches for a

spell to put on the cast to keep you from feeling so miserable." "That's a good idea." Fallon yawned. "But not tonight. I think I'm exhausted enough to sleep." "I hate seeing you hurt. Nothing will ever harm you again, Fallon, I swear to you." Fallon frowned. "I was foolish to ignore your vision. I should've trusted your instincts. Gennady, we need to make sure the people who did this never hurt anyone else." "We will." Gennady kissed Fallon, soft and sweet. "I love you." Fallon curled his tail over Gennady's hip. "I love you, too. I'm so glad to be home. You've always made me feel so safe." Gennady cuddled closer. "While you were missing, I thought a lot about when I first brought you home. About you growing into a man before my very eyes." He chuckled. "One early September morning when you were six years old, I stood in the foyer watching you struggle into your coat all by yourself on your first day of school. You looked so cute, my intrepid first-grader. After you finally got your coat zipped, I handed you your backpack and your Toy Story lunch box, and I gave you a kiss on the cheek. You said, 'I love you, 'Nady,' and Sariel walked you to school. My heart broke that I couldn't be the one to take you. I didn't much like being a vampire that day." Gennady placed a soft kiss on Fallon's cheek. "That was the last time you called me 'Nady until yesterday evening. Konnor said you asked for me by that name at the hospital before I arrived." "I've started remembering the night my mother died." Fallon closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. "I remember you trying to coax me out of the car before the explosion, and then you stuffing me inside your coat to sneak me into a pretty, pink-and-blue house. Since that day, you've never stopped trying to protect me. Would you think I was silly if I started calling you 'Nady again? My special name for you, and no one else's?" Smiling, Gennady pressed his forehead to Fallon's. "I can't think of anything more precious you could give me." By the expression suddenly crossing Fallon's face, it seemed as if a light bulb had turned on over his head. He struggled to sit up but managed with only a few grunts and groans, along with a helpful boost from Gennady. Fallon reached down the neck of his shirt and pulled out a small jade bauble on a delicate chain. He pulled the necklace over his head and handed it to Gennady. "I want you to have this."

Without hesitation Gennady slipped the necklace over his head and lifted the lotus flower pendant to look closer. "It's beautiful, but—" "This necklace belonged to my mother." Fallon visibly fought back tears, Gennady's brave little kit. "She would want you to have it. I wish you could have known each other." Gennady dropped the pendant to his chest and took Fallon into his arms. "I'll treasure it always." Fallon gave Gennady a fierce hug and drew back smiling. "As I will treasure you." He smiled. "My 'Nady." ~ The End ~ ABOUT THE AUTHORS Reno MacLeod and partner Jaye Valentine live on the south coast of Massachusetts with their menagerie of cats, freshwater fish, and dust mice. They enjoy writing and watching movies together, and both are shamefully fond of competitive reality shows. In addition to writing, Reno designs and creates book cover art and logos, while Jaye also writes random fare under the pen name Acer Adamson. For more information on their writing, please visit Reno and Jaye at http:// macleodvalentine.com. Also By The Authors: Jaye Valentine & Reno MacLeod StarCrossed 1: Demon Tailz StarCrossed 2: Opposite Ends of the Spectrum StarCrossed 2 ½: Sangria and Seraphim StarCrossed 3: Objects in the Mirror StarCrossed 3 ½: Angel Tears StarCrossed 4: In The Blink of An Eye Soft Focus Messiah 1: The Three of Cups Messiah 2: The Page of Wands Sins of the Messiah A Perfect Game Little Japan Purple Hearts Let Them Try Jaye Valentine Damn Gorgeous Firecracker

Happily Ever Before Acer Adamson Only Words (Max & Skyler 1) Any Excuse (Max & Skyler 2) Tinseltown Blues (#1): All That Glitters Tinseltown Blues (#2): Hot Like Me! Special Advance Preview from Reno MacLeod and Jaye Valentine Coming Early 2011

STARCROSSED 5: PANACEA Chapter Two Forty miles southwest of Salem, Peter Hartstone wheeled a cart down the long, dark hallway of the Massachusetts Correctional Institution's solitary confinement wing, his shadow casting strange patterns on stark, white walls. MCI housed approximately five hundred of the vilest criminals in the state. The facility also served, under a shroud of secrecy, as the only Supermax prison in the nation equipped to handle wayward supernatural inmates. Fourteen doors lined the hallway of the special section, each made of impenetrable, bulletproof glass of special design. As Peter started his evening rounds, he knew only four cells contained inmates. Two remained in residence for the long haul—a werewolf gone feral, and a demon with a fondness for the flesh of young women. The other two prisoners were short-timers doing time for minor infractions. Peter's echoing footsteps fell silent in front of the first cell. At first he couldn't see his ward, but the salt circle was still intact so he didn't let the demon's tricks fool him. "Show yourself, Austin. If I don't see you fully visible within ten seconds, you don't get fed. Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . ." The air above the center of the salt circle fluctuated as if heat were rising from the concrete floor. By the count of five, Austin appeared. "Good boy." Peter slipped his pass card through the security slot. A small section of the glass popped open, and he tossed a three-pound raw roast into the protective circle. The demon

—composed primarily of purple shadow and black, jagged scales—descended upon the meat with unforgiving fury. Peter shook his head and carefully relocked the cell. "Nice manners." Peter moved down the hall until he came to the next cell. He peered in and smiled before pressing the intercom activation button. "Hello, Mr. Zaitsev. How are we this evening?" "Hungry and horny, in no particular order of preference." Jericho returned the smile. "And you, Mr. Hartstone?" Peter gave a friendly shrug. "I'm afraid I can only help you with one of your predicaments." He turned back to the cart, opened an electric cooler built in to the middle shelf, and selected two transfusion bags. "I'm going to open up now. Behave yourself and move against the far wall, your back toward me." Jericho complied, turning to face the wall with his back toward the outer barrier and Peter. "What's your favorite food, Peter—your absolute favorite dish. The one thing in the world you'd want to have endless supplies of if you were stranded on a desert island for life." Peter thought as he unlocked the flip-down cover in the center of the cell door. He placed the two pouches of blood on the sliding tray and pushed them through to the other side. "Pasta Alfredo with lobster. Or maybe a really great pizza. Why?" Though the dark-blond vampire had been relatively docile during his two-month stay, Peter considered all supernaturals unpredictable. He remained sharp and alert and on his guard. Jericho made a slow turn to face the front wall of the cell. He stared at the blood, scraping his bottom lip with the point of a fang. Peter averted his eyes. "Mmm," Jericho said. "Alfredo . . . it's been so long. What if you were told that from now on all you could eat for the rest of your life was dry, tasteless days-old bread?" Peter kept his eyes lowered, never looking at Jericho above chest level. He knew where this was headed. "Look, you'll be out of here in just under three weeks. Once you leave, no one will forbid you fresh blood as long as you obey the law and take only from the willing." Leaning back against the far wall, Jericho crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the bags of blood. "I've never violated that law, even before it became a government mandate. Forcing me to subsist on that shit is cruel and unusual punishment. You could at least take thirty seconds to warm the bags." "My, my, but someone sure woke up on the wrong side of the coffin tonight." Peter sighed and unlocked the food tray slot a second time. Jericho had been one of his better charges,

and he had to admit the punishment for the original crime—failing to register with the Department of Special Enforcement after re-establishing residency in Salem—seemed a bit harsh. The additional seven-week sentence, a result of Jericho bespelling the booking agent into releasing him, seemed fair by comparison. Peter reached for the transfusion bags, realizing he'd neglected to tell Jericho to turn around and wondering if the mistake had been conscious choice. He hovered his hand over the blood. His gaze locked with Jericho's bright hazel eyes, Peter slowly turned his palm upward and flexed his wrist. The closer Jericho came to the bulletproof glass the more clearly Peter could see his own shocked reflection. A classic, sturdy Marine with blue eyes and blond crew cut hair, Peter had a masculine, angular face. At two inches over six feet, Peter looked Jericho perfectly in the eyes. Jericho bent forward, skirting his nose mere millimeters above Peter's wrist. He flicked his gaze up. "You don't want to do this, Peter. Not now, not here, and not under these circumstances. I'm hungry, not desperate or stupid. I've learned my lesson, believe it or not." Peter threw a look over his shoulder at the surveillance camera. The signal light blinked red, the lens watching his every movement. Turning back to Jericho, he withdrew his arm from the slot and slammed the drawer shut. "You've just earned yourself an early release hearing. Eat up. You'll need your strength to face the Special Council." "I'll eat when I'm free." Jericho pressed against the glass, wiggling an index finger to beckon Peter closer. "After I'm released, stop by the club called Tailz on the north end of Lafayette Street in Salem." He smiled wide, fully revealing his fangs. "I know you want it, Peter. I can smell your need even through the glass."