"But it happens. People have tempers. Some are weak."

Where was he going with this? He was setting me up. And his soft voice sounded so reasonable, so warm, inviting me to agree with him.

"Some drink liquor and abuse their children. That is, without a doubt, harm, yes?"

"I am not aware of any abuse in their home."

"Abuse takes so many subtle forms, Persephone. Neglect can be as bad as physical harm." Menessos's voice was low and soothing. "Making a child watch daily, live daily in the environment of their parent's slow self-destruction, that is mental harm. Would you agree to that?"

"To the statement, yes, to it applying to their situation, no."

"People get hurt every day, Persephone, dear, idealistic Persephone."

Every time he said my name, it was as if his voice physically touched me. Gooseflesh rose along my arms.

"Perhaps you have heard the saying, 'An' ye harm some, do as ye must'?"

"I am aware of that additional line in some traditions." Had he been reading me?

"The harm has been done," he said benevolently. "We will take her, teach her, and raise her to be wise and strong and beautiful. She will have a fuller life than her mother could ever provide."

"No." My voice lacked the strength needed to give the word real weight.

"We will see to it that she is loved, attended, and nurtured in ways her mother is currently incapable of handling. We have many options." He gestured to the other vampires who indicated their agreement. "I know of couples who are childless, but do not wish it to be so."

I thought of Celia and Erik. Did he mean waeres? He was suggesting they would—in theory—foster this hypothetical child into a home of waeres! But in exchange for what? "You will deliver her to a life of servitude to the undead."

"You would have her stay in a life with no future. As good as dead!"

"You would make her a pawn—"

"No! Her mother made her a pawn," he snarled. Heat flared on my sternum. "I would make her wealthy and her every need would be met."

"Still a pawn," I countered coolly, "just a classier version of the game."

"This game will be played regardless, Persephone. What version would you choose to have this child play?"

My stomach churned. "Merciful vampires" administering a fate free from wont… this was brutal to my conscience. My only consolation was that this was a hypothetical situation. Not real. Not real.

Or was it?

Could this kind of deal-making have been behind Goliath's kidnapping? Had a family secret been covered up by the payment of a child?

"As above, so below, witch," Heldridge shot in. "Does your Goddess never cause harm?"

"She would choose to harm least," I whispered. By allowing unpleasantness to transpire in small doses, a tenuous balance would be maintained.

My secret hint was that her mother was dying anyway. There was no mention of extended family to adopt the girl. Could I make this decision? As high priestess, I would have authority and would be expected to use it, even when unpleasant for me. The job is what the job is. But if this kind of thing was under the jurisdiction of a high priestess, it was news to me.

Neither option was good. Still, I had to make a choice…

Make a choice. May… catch… oyster—! May-ca-choys-tereclat. Make-a-choice-directly.

I knew what this was all about. I knew what to do.

"Fine. I will agree to look the other way while you take the girl on the following conditions: One, she is fostered with a waere family of good conscience and a history of secure kenneling—a family of whom I approve. Two, you may take blood from her only in safe amounts and only without her knowledge. I'm sure you have ways of doing that. Three, on the full moon just prior to her eighteenth birthday, you return her to me, where she will remain for no less than two cycles of the moon. She will yet be mortal, human, and alive. I expect to find her healthy, both mentally and physically; to be well educated, socially adjusted, and happy. I will perform a rite of passage. If she chooses not to return to your fold, if she chooses to remain away from you and not become an offerling, she will be rescinded. You will count your debt paid and allow it."

Heldridge's unyielding glare was icy. "You ask us to become foster parents so in the end you can convince her not to become an offerling?"

"If you've sold her blood, taken in non-health-threatening amounts, the cost of her rearing should be less than your profit. In fact, that should be part of the deal. A complete annual accounting, verified by an outside source, of what you have earned from her blood and what you have spent on her upkeep."

The vampires exchanged glances.

Before anything could be said, however, the door to the room opened. Desdemona stood beyond it.

"Well done, contestant. Your performance will be evaluated,

And you will proceed to the next round if you are thusly fated."

The test was over. I'd shown that I could and would make a decision, even when all the options were flawed.

I moved immediately toward the door. I was so out of there, so gone before something else happened with the stain.

Menessos caught my arm and held it, keeping me from leaving. I wanted to jerk away, to huff angrily, defiantly. But the instant his flesh touched mine, this first touch since I'd chosen to keep the stain, since I'd destroyed the stake, he sent a heated caress deep inside me, sinking through skin, through muscle, and deep into bone, warming me as if I'd swallowed the summer sun—

Menessos jerked his hand away.

Was that the vampire version of the jolt Hunter had given to everyone in the contest?

He stared down, studying me. His scrutiny was not unlike that he'd given earlier to the art in the room, but suspicion lurked under the surface of his cold-steel irises. Even as I stared boldly into his imprisoning eyes, I felt no draw from them, no threat, but saw they were paler, icier than I remembered. "That was brilliant," he said. "Manipulating us into attending properly to the needs of a child whose parent wronged us." He paused, a wicked twist claiming his lips. "This concept, I will have to consider all possible applications. I can utilize such arrangements immediately." The menace in his tone was unmistakable. "Can't you, Heldridge?"

I suddenly remembered the pain that Menessos felt when I'd tended the wound where Samson tried to stake him. Angered he would manipulate my ideas to his devious aims, and more so that children might be involved, I gave in to an impulse: I grabbed his raven-scratched arm and squeezed. But this time I anticipated the heat of our contact and threw my witch-jolt out to shield against it, effectively diminishing it. I felt his ridged and torn flesh squirm under the pressure of my grip.

In a blink, his eyes had gone nearly white. His fanged mouth opened in an indication of pain, but he made no sound.

The fingers of his uninjured arm suddenly snatched onto my shoulder and he jerked me close. Heat billowed around me, between us, without passing my shield. His wicked expression returned and his voice came low and threatening, "Whatever the outcome of this Eximium, I will see you again, witch."

As I brushed past Desdemona in the reception area, she put one of the tea light lamps into my hands. Outside in the hall, I paused for a deep breath to cleanse my aura of the fear and feel of Menessos. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to wait for the Elder or Lydia or a policeman to escort me, but I wasn't going to wait either. Forcing myself onward in the dark, I hoped the outage didn't reach all the way to my more rural home. Nana would wake up to a cold house. It wouldn't help her knee.

Going with that thought to keep the vampire from my mind, I promised myself I'd get right to work getting a contractor out to start work on renovating the dining room for her.