There had to be a way to save him from the fate my dream predicted. There just had to be.

"All right, what do you think of this?"

"I don't like it." Christian's silky voice was a bit sulky.

"You sound like Jem. How about this? I just bet a great strong man like you would appreciate this."

"No."

"You didn't even try it!"

"I don't have to try it to know I won't like it."

"You are such a baby. All right, how about this? I love this; I'm sure you will, too."

He looked suspiciously at me. "What is it?"

I waved the spoon under his nose. "Mole chicken."

He made a face. "I don't believe I could eat the flesh of an animal."

"Just try it. For me."

He grimaced and took a tiny little morsel of mole-covered chicken from the spoon. The look on his face as he chewed it was priceless.

"I take it that's a no."

"I do not want any more animal flesh."

"Okay, fine, strictly vegetarian diet, no problem. I'm not a big cow eater myself. Now, let's see…" I looked over the dining room table, which was covered in more than a dozen different take-out cartons. "You were go on the Greek pasta salad."

"I liked the wine."

"But the hummus didn't strike a strong chord with you." I pushed the red-pepper-and-olive hummus over to my side of the table. I wasn't nearly as picky as Christian was. Then again, I hadn't just been given the ability to eat after nine hundred years, either. I suppose that gave him the right to have such definite preferences.

"The wine was very good."

"And the Cantonese beef and the mole chicken are out. Same with the ribs."

"I enjoyed the wine."

"But you haven't tried the vegetarian fried rice yet. Here, try some rice."

"I believe I could have more wine without suffering any ill effects," he told me as I poked the spoon at his lips in an attempt to slip a few morsels of rice between them.

I sighed and set the spoon down. "You said you would be able to ingest only tiny bits of food and beverage at first, Christian. You did not say that being with me would open up the door to your becoming a wino."

He frowned. "Wino?"

"One who drinks copious quantities of wine."

He looked at the petite sherry glass that I had found to, serve him little thimble-size swallows of various wines so he could see what he liked and disliked.

"I suspect that it would take more than the teaspoon or two of wine you've given me to qualify for the word copious."

"No one likes a drunk vampire. Now try this rice and I might let you have a sip of a Gewürztraminer."

He selected an individual grain of rice and nibbled on it. "Passable."

I poured him another swallow of wine.

"Okay, so that leaves the spaghetti, which you won't like because it has dead cow in it, and sage roasted potatoes, which I can personally attest to as being nummy, and the—"

"Why are you avoiding the inevitable?" he asked, the sherry glass dangling from his elegant fingers.

"I told you, I don't need anyone to help me take a bath."

"You are bruised; I can feel your pain when you move. Why will you not let me soothe your aches in the warmth and comfort of a bath?"

"Because your sort of soothing involves bare flesh, and I know you around bare flesh; you're going to want to make love, and I just don't think that's a good idea now. It's a good thing Joy interrupted us when she did. Until I get a few things straight in my mind, you're not going to touch me, and that means no bath."

He smiled.

"I'm serious, Christian."

His smile deepened.

"Don't you think what you're thinking!" I shook a fork at him.

"If you ask me to, corazón, I will tear 'is 'eart out and dance on it." A disembodied voice floated down the length of the table.

I made a face at the air as it gathered into the translucent image of a randy Elizabethan courtier. "I thought you guys were watching a movie?"

"The others would not let me watch it."

"Really?" I frowned. Esme had discovered that if she focused her attention, she could push buttons on the remote. The freedom to channel-surf had quickly made her and Jem giddy TV addicts. "Why?"

He waved his hand. "They objected to it."

"What was the title?"

He pursed his lips and gave me the wounded-puppy dog look. "I cannot remember. I believe it was a movie about explorers. Someone's visit to a place called Dallas."

"Someone's visit to Dallas?"

"Debbie Does Dallas, was, I think, the title. It looked to be most amusing, but Esme said it was not appropriate for her cat. Bah!"

I snorted out the sip of wine I was taking, and coughed and sputtered for a good minute until I got all of it out of my lungs. Christian helpfully patted me on the back until I could breathe again. Antonio took exception to that. He puffed up his chest and stalked over to Christian.

"Oh, no, not again," I moaned, having seen enough male posturing earlier when we had arrived home to last me a lifetime. "Look, it was bad enough that you two had to go mano a mano a couple of hours ago, filling the entire house with enough testosterone to choke a horse, but if you don't mind, Antonio, Christian and I are trying to have dinner. Go back and watch whatever movie the others are watching."

" 'A!" Antonio waved his hand at the food and scoffed. Loudly. With one hand on a hip and a sneer on his face. "'E is as dead as I am; 'e cannot eat. And yet you, mi amor, mi corazón, you prefer this monstrosity to me? No." He shook his head, his curls trembling violently. "It cannot be. I will not accept it. I will challenge 'im to a duel of honor for your fair 'and!"

"Christian is not dead; he's just not… well, quite human. He's a slight variation on human, that's all."

"I don't care, I still challenge 'im. 'E 'as stolen my true love. 'E will die for that crime."

With a ghostly whisper of steel, Antonio pulled the rapier from the scabbard that suddenly appeared at his waist.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, I don't believe this…"

Antonio waved his rapier about in manner that, had it had been real, would have decapitated Christian, me, and three of the candles in the center of the dining table. "Do you accept my challenge, you 'ideous dead one, or are you too cowardly to face me like a man?"

Christian smiled at Antonio as he rose to his feet. I groaned and made a mental note to find a way to Release Antonio before Christian really lost his temper with him. Not to mention my temper.

"Where is Antonio… Oh, here you all are. What's going on?" Esme asked as she materialized in the dining room. "Oooh, you're fighting a duel? Over Allegra? How thrilling! Jem! Alis! You must see this; Antonio and Christian are fighting over Allegra."

"No," I started to say, but it was no use. Before the word left my lips, Jem and Alis popped into the dining room. Mr. Woogums jumped onto the table and limped over to smell the barbeque ribs. "Now, listen here, everyone, there is not going to be any… Jem, what in heaven's name have you done to yourself?"

"You insist on badgering my Beloved even when she has asked you to leave," Christian said, ignoring the audience that had lined up against the far wall. Alis spotted a series of Dresden antique statuettes on a shelf and moved in front of them to scream in Welsh. "You are here only on Allegra's sufferance, ghost, so I would suggest that you do as she tells you and not persist on this foolish course."

"Have you lost your mind? You can't go around dressed like that," I told Jem. "You look like a punk rocker. How many eighteenth-century waiters do you know who have a purple mohawk and a ring in their nose? I just bet you the answer is none!"

"You are the dead coward most extraordinary," Antonio taunted Christian, pausing long enough to blow me a showy kiss and materialize a red rose right in the middle of my kung pao chicken.