"Your real life." She could hear the curiosity in the vampire’s modulated tones. "What is this, then? A figment of your truly remarkable imagination?"

Margrit turned back, arms folded under her breasts. "This is the life I can’t talk about to anyone. It’s the world I got myself involved in without really appreciating how hard it would be to protect someone who wasn’t human from humans. Everything I do with any of you happens behind this huge facade. I could almost justify taking a job with you before Russell died. Now…Jesus, I don’t know. On the one hand, you’ve got a good point about someone being murdered in the office, and me wanting to get out of there. On the other, anyone who knows me is going to have a hard time believing I decided to run away instead of investigating and trying to make sense of what happened. They won’t believe I’m willing to abandon Legal Aid, my principles, my work, my life, after my mentor’s death. I’m not sure I’d believe it."

"Then investigate." Daisani spread his hands at her astonished double take. "If it’s an image of consistency that’s distressing you, Margrit, then by all means, investigate. Help your fellow lawyers put themselves back together and mourn Mr. Lomax properly. Discover the truth. But don’t fool yourself into thinking you’ll earn Lomax’s job as your reward. You’re far too young and pretty. If you were fifteen years older and your beauty had matured as well as your mother’s has, you might seize that brass ring, but not now."

The insult sent heat rising in her cheeks. "You think I only want to find out what happened to further my career?"

"Of course not. I’m sure you’re genuinely determined to see Lomax’s murderer be found and brought to justice. And if you remained in public service, that dedication might pay off, a decade or two down the road. But you did come here to make a bargain, Miss Knight, and I’ve accepted it. I would think a week or two of transition time would be appropriate even if Russell hadn’t died, so I’m willing to take that as writ now. Pursue that case to your satisfaction. But attend Saturday’s party, and do so as a member of my corporation."

Margrit stared at the dapper vampire a few seconds, then rolled her jaw and nodded as she recognized a window of opportunity. "All right. Okay, you win. My turn. You’ve got an appointment tonight."

Daisani’s eyebrows rose. "And who has arranged this?"

"Your new personal assistant. Kaimana Kaaiai would like to meet with you at the Rockefeller Center at eight o’clock. I said you’d be there." Perspiration made her hands clammy, but Margrit kept her gaze steady.

"Did you. And what does Kaaiai wish to discuss with me?"

"I don’t really know. Something important about all of you." Margrit circled a finger in the air, indicating the Old Races. "You’re not going to make a liar of me, are you?"

Daisani pursed his mouth, watching her warily. "I suppose not, Miss Knight, but I’ll expect you to come with me. This is just the sort of social engagement Vanessa used to attend with me. It puts a polite veneer on things."

Margrit nodded stiffly. "I’ll meet you there."

Daisani chuckled. "That wasn’t intended as a negotiation."

"I’m a lawyer, Mr. Daisani. Everything’s a negotiation." She took a deep breath and drew herself up. "My boss was just murdered. I told my housemates I was thinking about coming to work for you. My life has been totally disrupted. I need to go home after work and be normal for a little while. I’m neck deep in your world, but I’ve also still got to live in mine. To live in it, not just drift through every once in a while. I’m having a hard enough time balancing all of this. Don’t take the life I used to have away from me. Isolated animals get sick and die of broken hearts."

"Falling ill is not an issue that should concern you any longer, Margrit."

"I’m betting even a vampire’s blood doesn’t keep hearts from breaking. I need my friends. I need my life. Maybe Vanessa learned to do without those things, but I’m not her."

"No," Daisani said after a moment. "No, you certainly are not. Very well, Miss Knight. You may return to your family." Mocking came into his eyes and he produced a flourish, an elegant bend and dip of his hands so elaborate Margrit half expected a prize to be pulled from his sleeve. Instead he held his thumb and forefinger a delicate fraction of an inch apart and extended his hand. "Take this rose, and return to me before the last petal falls. If you do not-"

Margrit reached out and plucked the intangible rose from his fingertips, so sure and swift it felt as though there was no make-believe in the gesture at all. "Then when I do return the castle will have fallen and the Beast will have perished. Thank you for my freedom, my lord." She ducked her head over the illusory flower and inhaled.

The scent of roses lingered in the back of her throat as she left the building.

Work was quiet chaos. Margrit moved from one task to another with mindless efficiency, accomplishing more than usual in order to prevent herself from thinking about the yellow police tape cordoning off Russell’s office. An entire section of the department was closed down to make room for police work. Tony, back on duty, gave her a grim nod when she came in, as if promising to come talk to her when he could.

Her coworkers-those who were there; a noticeable number were out-seemed to be caught in the same web of necessity Margrit was, silently focusing on work for extended periods. Caseloads were shifted around, no one objecting when they might have normally. The quiet was interrupted in waves, sudden bursts of conversation that faded away into new flurries of activity. Once someone laughed, then cut it off in a gasp of guilt. Margrit got up after that, abandoning paperwork to hurry downstairs and out to the street, where city sounds drowned out the uncomfortable pall of the office.

A woeful Sam leaned against the building, studying the sky. Margrit went over to lean next to him. "Couldn’t take it anymore, either, huh?"

"This wasn’t how the first week of work was supposed to go. I couldn’t take watching people make a break for the door when they couldn’t take it anymore. I’m right there at the front. Everybody had to go by me and nobody’s looking at anybody today."

Margrit nodded. "I didn’t make it to the office yesterday. Was it bad?"

"Yeah." Sam knuckled his fingers over his mouth. "A lot of people went home. Pretty much anybody who didn’t have a court case to argue or something major to prepare for. Cops were all over the place, interviewing everybody. How’d your case go?"

"I lost. I just hope he doesn’t get an appeal based on my incompetence."

"I’m sure he won’t." Sam gave her a wan smile, then tilted his head at the street. "I’m going to get a cup of coffee. Want to join me?"

"No, thanks. I just needed a minute outside. I’m going to head back in."

"Okay." He pushed off from the wall and disappeared into sidewalk traffic. Margrit took a deep breath, straightened away from the wall and turned, to nearly collide with Tony.

"Whoa." He caught her shoulders, then pulled her into a hug. "Sorry. You okay?"

"Better now." Margrit held for on a moment, breathing in his scent. "How’s it going?"

"Different degrees of crap. You got a couple minutes? I can tell you what I know. Well, you know what I mean."

"You can tell me what you’re allowed to." Margrit crooked a smile at the tall cop, feeling a sudden surge of confusion. Their jobs both precluded telling each other everything and always had. Her inability to talk about the Old Races seemed abruptly normal, as though it were simply another obvious part of the constraints of their jobs, and she found herself wondering how it had created the schism it had between them. As she’d told Cameron, it was almost impossible not to like Tony, and it seemed as though she was remembering that for the first time in months. "I love you, you know that?"