"My need was great tonight, Anita. Many people would have died if the creature had not been stopped. I drew power where I could find it."

"From me."

"Yes, you are my human servant. Just by being near me you increase my power. You know that."

I had known that, but I hadn't known he could channel power through me like an amplifier. "I know I'm some sort of witch's familiar for you."

"If you would allow the last two marks, it would be more than that. It would be a marriage of flesh, blood, and spirit."

"I notice you didn't say soul," I said.

He made an exasperated sound low in his throat. "You are insufferable." He sounded genuinely angry. Goody.

"Don't you ever force your way into my mind again."

"Or what?" The words were a challenge, angry, confused.

I was on my knees beside him nearly spitting into his face. I had to stop and take a few deep breaths to keep from screaming at him. I spoke very calmly, low and angry. "If you ever touch me like that again, I will kill you."

"You will try." His face was nearly pressed against mine. As if when he inhaled, he would bring me to him. Our lips would touch. I remembered how soft his lips were. How it felt to be pressed against his chest. The roughness of his cross-shaped burn under my fingers. I jerked back, and felt almost dizzy.

It had only been one kiss, but the memory of it burned along my body like every bad romance novel you'd ever read. "Leave me alone!" I hissed it in his face, hands balled into fists. "Damn you! Damn you!"

The office door opened, and a uniformed officer stuck his head out. "There a problem out here?"

We turned and stared at him. I opened my mouth to tell him exactly what was wrong, but Jean-Claude spoke first. "No problem, officer."

It was a lie, but what was the truth? That I had two vampire marks on me and was losing my soul a piece at a time. Not something I really wanted to be common knowledge. The police sort of frown on people who have close ties with the monsters.

The officer was looking at us, waiting. I shook my head. "Nothing's wrong, officer. It's just late. Could you ask Sergeant Storr if I can go home now?"

"What's the name?"

"Anita Blake."

"Storr's pet animator?"

I sighed. "Yeah, that Anita Blake."

"I'll ask." The uniform stared at the three of us for a minute. "You got anything to add to this?" He was speaking to Richard.

"No."

The uniform nodded. "Okay, but keep whatever isn't happening to a dull roar."

"Of course. Always glad to cooperate with the police," Jean-Claude said.

He nodded his thanks and went back into the office. We were left kneeling in the hallway. The shapeshifter was still asleep on the floor. His breathing made a quiet noise that didn't so much fill the silence as emphasize it. Richard was motionless, dark eyes staring at Jean-Claude. I was suddenly very aware that Jean-Claude and I were only inches apart. I could feel the line of his body like warmth against my skin. His eyes flicked from my face down my body. I was still wearing only a bra underneath the unzipped jacket.

Goosebumps rolled up my arms and down my chest. My nipples hardened as if he had touched them. My stomach clenched with a need that had nothing to do with blood.

"Stop it!"

"I am doing nothing, ma petite . It is your own desire that rolls over your skin, not mine."

I swallowed and had to look away from him. Okay, I lusted after him. Great, fine, it didn't mean a thing. Ri-ight. I scooted away from him, putting my back to the wall, not looking at him as I spoke. "I came here tonight for information, not to play footsie with the Master of the City."

Richard was just sitting there, meeting my eyes. There was no embarrassment, just interest, as if he didn't know quite what I was. It wasn't an unfriendly look.

"Footsie," Jean-Claude said. I didn't need to see his face to hear the smile in his voice.

"You know what I mean."

"I've never heard it called 'footsie' before."

"Stop doing that."

"What?"

I glared at him, but his eyes were sparkling with laughter. A slow smile touched his lips. He looked very human just then.

"What did you want to discuss, ma petite ? It must be something very important to make you come near me voluntarily."

I searched his face for mockery, or anger, or anything, but his face was as smooth and pleasant as carved marble. The smile, the sparkling humor in his eyes, was like a mask. I had no way of telling what lay underneath. I wasn't even sure I wanted to know.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly through my mouth. "Alright. Where were you last night?" I looked at his face, trying to catch any change of expression.

"Here," he said.

"All night?"

He smiled. "Yes."

"Can you prove it?"

The smile widened. "Do I need to?"

"Maybe," I said.

He shook his head. "Coyness, from you, ma petite . It does not become you."

So much for being slick and trying to pull information from the Master. "Are you sure you want this discussed in public?"

"You mean Richard?"

"Yes."

"Richard and I have no secrets from one another, ma petite . He is my human hands and eyes, since you refuse to be."

"What's that mean? I thought you could only have one human servant at a time."

"So you admit it." His voice held a slow curl of triumph.

"This isn't a game, Jean-Claude. People died tonight."

"Believe me, ma petite , whether you take the last marks and become my servant in more than name is no game to me."

"There was a murder last night," I said. Maybe if I concentrated just on the crime, on my job, I could avoid the verbal pitfalls.

"And?" he prompted.

"It was a vampire victim."

"Ah," he said, "my part in this becomes clear."

"I'm glad you find it funny," I said.

"Dying from vampire bites is only temporarily fatal, ma petite . Wait until the third night when the victim rises, then question him." The humor died from his eyes. "What is it that you are not telling me?"

"I found at least five different bite radiuses on the victim."

Something flickered behind his eyes. I wasn't sure what, but it was real emotion. Surprise, fear, guilt? Something.

"So you are looking for a rogue master vampire."

"Yep. Know any?"

He laughed. His whole face lit up from the inside, as if someone had lit a candle behind his skin. In one wild moment he was so beautiful, it made my chest ache. But it wasn't a beauty that made me want to touch it. I remembered a Bengal tiger that I'd seen once in a zoo. It was big enough to ride on like a pony. Its fur was orange, black, cream, oyster-shell white. Its eyes were gold. The heavy paws wider than my outspread hand paced, paced, back and forth, back and forth, until it had worn a path in the dirt. Some genius had put one barred wall so close to the fence that held back the crowd, I could have reached through and touched the tiger easily. I had to ball my hands into fists and shove them in my pockets to keep from reaching through those bars and petting that tiger. It was so close, so beautiful, so wild, so. . tempting.

I hugged my knees to my chest, hands clasped tight together. The tiger would have taken my hand off, and yet there was that small part of me that regretted not reaching through the bars. I watched Jean-Claude's face, felt his laughter like velvet running down my spine. Would part of me always wonder what it would have been like if I had just said yes? Probably. But I could live with it.

He was staring at me, the laughter dying from his eyes like the last bit of light seeping from the sky. "What are you thinking, ma petite ?"

"Can't you read my mind?" I asked.

"You know I cannot."

"I don't know anything about you, Jean-Claude, not a bloody thing."

"You know more about me than anyone else in the city."

"Yasmeen included?"

He lowered his eyes, almost embarrassed. "We are very old friends."

"How old?"

He met my eyes, but his face was empty, blank. "Old enough."

"That's not an answer," I said.

"No," he said, "it is an evasion."

So he wasn't going to answer my question; what else was new? "Are there any other master vampires in town besides you, Malcolm, and Yasmeen?"

He shook his head. "Not to my knowledge."

I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

"You're the Master of the City. Aren't you supposed to know?"

"Things are a little unsettled, ma petite ."

"Explain that."

He shrugged, and even in the bloodstained shirt it looked graceful. "Normally, as Master of the City, all other lesser master vampires would need my permission to stay in the city, but" — he shrugged again—"there are those who think I am not strong enough to hold the city."

"You've been challenged?"

"Let us just say I am expecting to be challenged."

"Why?" I asked.

"The other masters were afraid of Nikolaos," he said.

"And they're not afraid of you." It wasn't a question.

"Unfortunately, no."

"Why not?"

"They are not as easily impressed as you are, ma petite ."

I started to say I wasn't impressed, but it wasn't true. Jean-Claude could smell it when I lied, so why bother?

"So there could be another master in the city without your knowledge."

"Yes."

"Wouldn't you sort of sense each other?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not."

"Thanks for clearing that up."

He rubbed fingertips across his forehead as if he had a headache. Did vampires get headaches? "I cannot tell you what I do not know."

"Would the. ." I groped for a word, and couldn't find one—"more mundane vampires be able to kill someone without your permission?"

"Mundane?"

"Just answer the damn question."

"Yes, they could."