‘Not now, Genny,’ he said, voice calm. ‘Go back inside. This is no place for you.’

Maybe he was right.

But it was too late.

The door crashed open. A chill wind rushed in, swirled round the hall, set the lights swinging on their chains and rattled the glass in the windows.

Then all was perfect stillness.

And the sound of the goblin slapping his bat on the palm of his hand sounded as loud as a fire-dragon’s jaw snapping closed.

T hree vampires walked into the police station.It sounds like one of those jokes, except I doubted anyone would be laughing by the time we got to the punch-line.

The first one through the door lived up to the romantic stereotype: he swept his velvet knee-length jacket back with a flourish and posed with one hand on his hip. Ivory lace billowed at his wrists and neck, and a black ribbon caught his tawny hair in a loose pony-tail at the nape of his neck. Aquiline nostrils flared as he cast an arrogant look around the room, passing over Alan Hinkley, Neil Banner and the grinning goblin, all clustered on my right. He stopped when he reached me.

A shiver ran down my spine as his eyes met mine.

It looked like it was the night for all the old ones to surface, though as with the Armani-suited vamp, I didn’t recognise this particular vamp either .

A warning rumble issued from deep within Hugh’s chest.

The vampire snapped his head round, sniffed with disdain at Hugh, then settled his attention on DI Crane. His expression turned intense, brooding. With his eyes never leaving hers, he extended his right leg and bowed. ‘You are very beautiful, Madame.’ He spoke slowly, with a thick accent.

Her eyes wide, she pressed her lips together until they disappeared. Her fingers, clenched around the sapphire pendant at her breast, were almost bloodless.

Damn.The new DI was afraid of the vamps—not just a healthy, ‘hey, they could be dangerous’ type of fear, but what looked suspiciously like a full-on phobia. So what the hell was she doing running the magic murder squad?

I shot a look at Hugh, but he was still glowering at the lace-bedecked vampire.

‘Good evening.’ Vampire Number Two appeared, moving with effortless grace to stand just in front of Lacy. He smiled, fangs hidden. The smile was charm itself, not vamp mesma, just centuries of practise—eight centuries, to be precise, if the media had got it right, except he looked to be in his early thirties. An Oxford-blue shirt accentuated his azure eyes and blond hair, while his blazer, grey flannels and loafers gave the impression he was generally to be found idly punting down the Thames. Instead he played the Godfather to London’s Blood Families.

This was the Undead Lord, the Earl.

‘I must apologise for the theatrics.’ The Earl gestured at Lacy. ‘Louis, my companion, is a little concerned about his friend, Roberto October. I am afraid his feelings have rather overwhelmed him.’

I frowned at Lacy Louis. Was this the same Louis who’d sunk his fangs into Holly, the faeling I’d met earlier? The vamp she’d said Bobby had argued with?

Louis was still brooding at the Inspector. ‘I regrettealso, Madame.’

Then the third vampire shuffled in behind, his shoes squeaking across the floor like an anxious mouse. He stopped, hovering halfway between the Earl and Alan’s little group. His rumpled suit looked about as comfortable as a hair shirt and his undone shoe laces trailed about his feet. One sharp fang had pierced his bottom lip, and a sluggish bead of blood dripped onto his collar, merging with the rusty stains already there. He peered around, the fretful look of a young child on his thirtysomething face.

The other vamps ignored him. But then, he did kind of spoil the show.

‘That’s the vampire solicitor.’ Alan’s muttered comment to Neil Banner broke the expectant silence. ‘He didn’t look like that last night. What’s the matter with him?’

It was a good question. A better one was why had the Earl brought him along?

‘My dear Inspector.’ The Earl extended his hand to DI Crane.

She flinched and Hugh moved nearer, his warning rumble again reverberating around the hall.

Shuffle Vamp stumbled backwards.

The Earl let his hand fall. ‘My sincere apologies for calling upon you unannounced, as it were,’ he said smoothly. ‘When Westman’—he indicated Shuffle Vamp—‘explained the situation to me, I felt I had to come immediately.’ His charming smile was tinged with sadness. ‘Please do forgive me.’

DI Crane appeared to regain her composure. She gave him a small nod. ‘Yes, of course, Lord—?’

‘I am known simply as the Earl, my dear lady. There is no need to stand on any ceremony. My claim to my title passed some long years ago and I have no wish to inconvenience the current bearer by reclaiming it. Time stands still for no man.’ He inclined his head. ‘Please do not let me keep you from your duties any more. It is Mr Hinkley I wish to speak to.’

DI Crane frowned uncertainly at Louis until Hugh bent his head down to hers and said something too low for me to hear. She straightened her shoulders, shaking her head.

I rubbed the back of my neck, still uneasy. What was Lacy Louis doing here? That ‘friend’ story was a load of crap. The Earl turning up full of concern, that was believable; he was probably running media interference ... except that there were no reporters hanging round to scribble down his well-thought-out off-the-cuff remarks.

And that led me straight on to another question: why weren’t there any journalists about? You’d think they were an extinct species, going by the lack of news coverage outside Old Scotland Yard. The only hack in evidence was Alan himself—who was now listening intently to the Earl—and he didn’t count.

‘Such a terrible time.’ The Earl’s tone was warm, solicitous, with just the tiniest whisper of vamp mesmato boost the feelings. ‘And I understand you have dispensed with Westman’s services.’

At the mention of his name, Westman shuffled closer to them. He didn’t look in any fit state to offer advice—and he also appeared more interested in Neil Banner and his goblin than in his erstwhile client.

I narrowed my eyes, frowning. Why hadthe Earl brought him along?

The goblin twisted his bat in his palm, his head swinging like a metronome from side to side, trying to keep both vampires in range.

I was still frowning when I realised the Earl was moving my way.

‘It is wonderful to meet you at last, Ms Taylor.’ He smiled and held out one pale manicured hand.

I tried not to tense as I shook his hand. His palm was warm and dry and felt exactly as a hand should. But that was it. There was no annoying throb in my neck. No desire to spill my blood at his feet. The apprehension in my gut went down a notch. The G-Zav was doing its thing.

‘I have heard such delightful things about you.’ He gave me a benign look from under his flop of blond hair. ‘I feel as if I already know you, so I shall call you Genevieve.’

I beamed at him. He could call me what he liked, so long as he didn’t think I was going to call him Master.

‘You really are extraordinarily beautiful, my dear.’ He reached out, traced a butterfly touch along my jaw. I wanted to brush his hand away, but gritted my teeth instead. ‘A delicate, yet eminently strong bone structure.’ His blue eyes lit with manly appreciation ... only something told me it was more because he thought I expected it than because he actually meant it. ‘You have a dancer’s figure: slender, muscled, but ultimately feminine. You would look wonderful cast in bronze. I have quite an extensive collection of Degas.’ He patted my hand and leaned towards me. ‘I would be honoured if you would view it some time.’

I gave a surprised laugh, tugging my hand from his. Were we talking euphemisms? ‘I’m not sure bronzes are my thing, but thanks anyway.’ Then I frowned. Why were the DI and Hugh still holding their staring contest with Lacy Louis?