“Why? What do your parents want with vamps?” Stevie Rae asked.

“To get access to more money—more power—more beauty. In other words, being part of the cool crowd. It’s all they’ve ever wanted—to be cool and powerful. They use whoever they can to get them what they want, including me, and, obviously, Neferet,” Aphrodite said, weirdly echoing what I’d been thinking.

“Neferet is not the way for them to get any of that,” I said.

“No kiddin’, Z, she’s crazier than a rat in a tin shithouse,” Stevie Rae said.

“Well, whatever that means, yeah, but not just that. Did anyone else notice Neferet’s look when Aphrodite’s dad was talking? She definitely didn’t like how things ended,” I said.

“A committee, a newspaper column, and going slowly and gently doesn’t seem like something the Consort of Darkness would be particularly interested in,” Damien agreed.

“And she definitely didn’t like it when the mayor avoided the question about you being dangerous,” I said.

“I’d like to be dangerous to Neferet!” Stark blurted, still looking kinda shell-shocked.

“My dad is very good at promising one thing and delivering another,” said Aphrodite. “I can tell you right now that he thinks he can play that game with Neferet.” She shook her head. No matter how callous she sounded, her expression was strained.

“We need to go to the House of Night. Now. If Thanatos doesn’t know about this, she needs to,” I said.

Neferet

Humans were so weak and boring and so terribly plain, Neferet thought as she watched the mayor, Charles LaFont, simper and placate and continue to avoid any direct questions about danger and deaths and vampyres after their press conference. Even this man who the whisperings of rumor said was next in line for a senatorial seat, and was supposedly so charismatic and dynamic … Neferet had to hide her sarcastic laughter in a cough. This man was nothing. Neferet had expected more from Aphrodite’s father.

Father! A voice echoed from her past, startling her and causing Neferet’s grip on the filigreed iron banister to tighten suddenly, spasmodically. She had to cough again to hide the cracking sound that came from the wrought iron as she pried her hand from it. This was when her patience ended.

“Mayor LaFont, would you escort me to my penthouse.” The words should have been a question, but Neferet’s voice did not frame them as such. The four city councilmen who had joined the press conference and the mayor turned in her direction. She easily read each of them.

They all found her beautiful and desirable.

Two so much so that they would be willing to forsake their wives, their families, and their careers to mate with her.

Charles LaFont was not one of those two. Aphrodite’s father lusted after her—of that there was no doubt—but his foremost desire was not sexual. LaFont’s greatest need was to feed his wife’s obsession with status and social acceptance. It was a pity, really, that he couldn’t be more easily seduced.

All of them feared her.

That made Neferet smile.

Charles LaFont cleared his throat and nervously adjusted his tie. “Of course, of course. It would be my pleasure to escort you.”

Neferet nodded coolly to the other men and ignored their hot eyes on her as she and LaFont got into the elevator and headed up to her penthouse suite.

She didn’t speak. Neferet knew he was nervous and much more unsure of himself than he pretended to be. In public his façade was one of easy charm and entitlement. But Neferet saw the scared, simpering human that crouched below his surface.

The elevator doors opened and she stepped out into the marble foyer of her suite.

“Join me for a drink, Charles.” Neferet gave him no opportunity to decline. She strode to the ornate, art deco bar and poured two glasses of rich red wine.

As she knew he would, he followed her.

She handed him one of the glasses. He hesitated and she laughed. “It is only a very expensive cabernet—not laced with blood at all.”

“Oh, indeed.” He took the glass and chuckled nervously, reminding her of a small, skittish lapdog.

Neferet loathed dogs almost as much as she loathed men.

“I had more to reveal today than just the information about James Stark,” she said coldly. “I think the community deserves to understand just how dangerous the House of Night vampyres have become.”

“And I think the community does not need to be panicked needlessly,” LaFont countered with.

“Needlessly?” She spoke the one word question sharply.

LaFont nodded and stroked his chin. Neferet was certain he believed he looked wise and benevolent. To her eyes he appeared weak and ridiculous.

It was then that Neferet noticed his hands. They were large and pale, with thick fingers that, for all their size, looked soft and almost feminine.

Neferet’s stomach heaved. She almost gagged on her wine as some of her cool demeanor slipped.

“Neferet? Are you well?” he asked her.

“Quite well,” she spoke quickly. “Except that I am confused. Are you saying that by alerting Tulsa of the dangers of these new vampyres you would be needlessly panicking them?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying. After the press conference Tulsa will be on alert. Continuing violence will not be tolerated; it will be stopped.”

“Really? How do you intend to stop vampyre violence?” Neferet’s voice was deceptively soft.

“Well, that is quite simple. I will continue to carry on with what we began today. You have alerted the public. With you acting as liaison on our newly established committee between the City and the High Council, you will be a voice of reason speaking for human-vampyre coexistence.”

“So it is with words that you will stop their violence,” she said.

“Spoken and written words, yes,” he nodded, looking very pleased with himself. “I do apologize if I spoke out of turn when I mentioned the newspaper column. It was a last-minute notion of my good friend, Jim Watts, senior editor of the Scene insert of the Tulsa World. I would have spoken to you about it first, but since you appeared at my office this afternoon with your alert, things spiraled quickly and publicly.”

Because I arranged them that way—because I goaded your inept system into action. Now it is time I push you into action just as I did the journalists and the councilmen.

“Reticence and writing were not what I planned when I sought you out,” she said.

“Perhaps not, but I have been in Oklahoma politics for almost twenty years, and I know my people. Slow and easy prodding is what works with them.”

“Like herding cattle?” Neferet said, not hiding the disdain in her voice.

“Well, I wouldn’t use that analogy, but I have found that forming a committee and researching, polling the community, getting sample feedback, all of that does make for a well-greased wheel in the cog of city politics.” LaFont chuckled and sipped his wine.

Hidden in the folds of her velvet dress, Neferet closed her hand into a fist and squeezed until her talon-like fingernails punctured her palm. Warm drops of scarlet pooled under her fingernails. Unseen by the ignorant human, the tendrils of Darkness slithered up Neferet’s leg, seeking … finding … drinking …

Ignoring the icy heat of the familiar pain, Neferet met LaFont’s gaze over his wineglass. Quickly, she dropped her voice to a soothing singsong.

“Peace with vampyres is not what you desire.

They burn too bright, too fierce, you envy their fire.

Reticence and writing be damned!

You must do as I—”

LaFont’s cell phone began to ring. He blinked and the glassy expression that had lidded his eyes cleared. He put his wineglass down, took the phone from his pocket, squinted at the screen, and then said, “That’s the police chief.” He punched the screen and wiped a hand down his face as he said, “Dean, good to hear from you.” LaFont nodded and then glanced up at Neferet. “You will forgive me, I’m sure, but I need to take this. I’ll get back with you soon about the specifics of the committee and the Q and A column.”