He shook his head. "Demons are hardly commonplace these days. The demon-possessed are caged quickly in mental institutions where they are subdued by drugs. Most younger vampires have never run into a sorcerer-you said yourself that you didn't know what you had scented until I told you."

"Why didn't the demon stop this sorcerer from falling victim to the vampire?" asked Samuel. "They usually protect their symbionts until they're finished with them."

"Why would it?" I said, mentally dusting off all I'd ever heard about sorcery, which wasn't much. "The demons' only desire is to create as much destruction as they can. All vampirism would do is increase Littleton 's ability to create mayhem."

"Do you know something of demons, Samuel Cornick?" asked Stefan.

Samuel shook his head. "Not enough to be of help. But I'll call my father. If he doesn't, he'll know someone who does."

"It is vampire business."

Samuel's eyebrows shot up. "Not if this sorcerer is leaving bloody messes behind."

"We'll see to him- and to his messes." Stefan turned to me. "I have two more favors to ask you-though you owe me nothing more."

"What do you need?" I hoped it wasn't anything immediate. I was tired and more than ready to clean the blood off my hands, both figuratively and literally, though I was afraid the former was going to be difficult.

"Would you come before my mistress and tell her what you have told me about the happenings of this night? She will not want to believe that a new-made vampire could do what he has done. No more will any of the seethe welcome the news of a sorcerer among us."

I had no particular desire to meet Marsilia again. He must have seen that on my face, because he continued, "He needs to be stopped, Mercy." He took another deep breath, deeper than he needed if all he were using the air for was to talk. "I will be asked about this night in full court. I will tell them what I have seen and heard-and they will know if what I tell them is true or false. I can tell them the events you say happened, but they cannot know they are true unless you, yourself, will speak for me. Without you there, they will take my memory of the maid's death as fact and your words to me as hearsay."

"What will they do to you if they don't believe you?" I asked.

"I am not a new vampire, Mercedes. If they decide that I have risked our kind by killing this woman, they will destroy me-just as your pack leader would have to destroy one wolf to protect the rest."

"All right," I agreed slowly.

"Only if I can come with her," Samuel amended.

"An escort of her choice," Stefan agreed. "Perhaps Adam Hauptman or one of his wolves. Dr. Cornick, please don't take offense, but I don't think you should come. My mistress was taken with you last time, and self-control in such matters is not her strong suit."

"Tell me when you need me," I said before Samuel could begin arguing. "I'll find an escort."

"Thank you," Stefan said, then hesitated. "It is dangerous for you to keep reminding the seethe what you are."

Walkers are not popular among the vampires. I'd gathered that when the vampires first came to this part of the New World, the walkers here had made themselves enough of a pest that the vampires had killed most of them off. Stefan wouldn't tell me anything more detailed. Some things I'd figured out-like most vampire magic didn't work on me. But I couldn't see how I was any danger to them-unlike, say, a werewolf would be.

Stefan had known what I was for years, but had kept it from his seethe until I'd gone to them for help. He'd gotten into trouble for it.

"They already know what I am," I told him. "I'll come. What's the second favor?"

"It's already too light out for me to travel," he said, waving a vague hand toward my window. "Do you have somewhere dark I might spend the day?"

The only place for Stefan to sleep was my closet. The closets in Samuel's room and the third bedroom had slatted doors that allowed too much light to go through. All of my windows had blinds, but nothing dark enough to keep a vampire safe.

My bedroom took up one end of the trailer-Samuel's room was on the opposite end. I opened my door to wave Stefan inside, but Samuel came, too. I sighed and didn't fuss. Samuel wouldn't leave me alone with Stefan without a fight I was too battered to enjoy.

My bedroom was littered with clothing, some dirty, some clean. The clean clothes were folded in stacks I hadn't gotten around to putting in my drawers. Scattered among the clothes were books, magazines, and mail I hadn't sorted yet. If I'd known I was going to have a man in my room, I'd have cleaned it.

I pulled open the closet and pulled out a couple of boxes and two pairs of shoes. That left it empty-except for the four dresses hanging on one side. It was a big closet, long enough for Stefan to lie down comfortably in.

"Samuel can get you a spare pillow and blanket," I said, gathering clothes as I spoke. My need to be clean had been growing since I woke up, and now it was desperate. I needed to get the smell of the woman's death off of my skin because I couldn't get it out of my head.

"Mercedes," said Stefan in a gentle tone. "I don't need a blanket. I'm not going to be sleeping, I'm going to be dead."

I don't know why that was the final straw. Maybe it was the implication that I didn't understand what he was-when I'd just had a graphic example of what vampires could do. I'd been halfway to the bathroom, but I turned back and stared at both men.

"Samuel is going to get you a blanket," I told him firmly. "And a pillow. You are going to sleep for the day in my closet. Dead people don't get to stay in my bedroom."

I shut the bathroom door behind me and dropped the afghan I wore on the floor. I heard Samuel say, "I'll get some bedding," before I turned on the shower to let it warm up.

There's a full length mirror on the door of my bathroom. One of those cheap ones with the imitation wood frame. When I turned to put my clothes on top of the sink where they wouldn't get wet, I got a good look at myself.

At first, all I could see was the dried blood. In my hair, on my face, down my shoulder, arm and hip. On my hands and feet.

I threw up in the toilet. Twice. Then I washed my hands and face and rinsed my mouth out with water.

I was not unacquainted with blood. I am sometimes a coyote, after all. I've killed my share of rabbits and mice. Last winter I killed two men-werewolves. But this death was different. Evil. He hadn't killed her for food, revenge, or self-defense. He'd killed her, and four other people, because he liked it. And I hadn't been able to stop him.

I looked back at the mirror.

Bruises bloomed on my ribs and shoulder. Dark purple marks traced the path the harness had run around my chest and ribs. I must have done that while I was struggling against Stefan's hold on my leash. The bruise on the outside edge of my right shoulder was more black than purple. The left side of my face was swollen cheekbone to jaw and red with the promise of a truly spectacular bruise.

I leaned forward and touched my puffy eyelid. I looked like a rape victim-except for the two dark marks on my neck.

They looked sort of like a rattlesnake bite, two dark half-formed scabs surrounded by swollen and reddened skin. I covered them with my hand and wondered how much I trusted Stefan's assessment that I would neither be turned into a vampire nor be subject to Littleton 's control.

I took out my hydrogen peroxide and dabbed it over the wounds, hissing at the sting. It didn't make me feel any cleaner. I took the bottle into the shower with me and poured the contents on my neck until the bottle was empty. Then I scrubbed.

The blood was soon gone, though it had turned the water at my feet rusty for a few seconds. But no matter how much soap and shampoo I used, I still felt dirty. The more I scrubbed the more frantic I felt. Littleton hadn't raped me, but he'd violated my body just the same. The thought of his mouth on me made my stomach churn again.