It seemed like that was plenty to me, but I didn’t argue.

“Do you have the time? I hate to put you out.” I genuinely liked Carter, though he frightened me sometimes. I think he frightened all of us.

He shrugged. “Time? What is time? I have more time than most of the world, my dear Menolly. I might as well fill it productively.”

As I stood, I suddenly felt sorry for him. He seemed lonely, but I didn’t want to say anything to exacerbate the issue, or—worse—to make him think I was interested. He was definitely attractive, and he’d take on a demon no problem, let alone a vampire. Maybe that was the problem. Whoever his partner was would end up being the vulnerable one.

“Do you ever…if you are ever in our neighborhood…We always have plenty for dinner.” I wasn’t sure what I was asking but he just laughed, softly.

“Oh Menolly, I do not travel much—not via modern conveniences. And I never drop in. I am an old-school gentleman when it comes to proper decorum, if you haven’t noticed. It is only in…private…that I wear the ringmaster’s hat.” The emphasis told me all I needed to know about his personal preferences. As he stood, I hastily stumbled back.

Carter noticed, of course, and he held out his hand for mine. “Do not be alarmed. I am a gentleman with all of my guests. If I may speak frankly, my paramours, perhaps, are of another flavor. They must have a taste for the…exotic. But trust me, you and your sisters will only receive the most proper behavior from me.”

As I gave him my hand, he brushed the top of my hand with a light kiss and pressed close to me, so that I could feel the steady pulse of his blood through his clothing. “Do not feel sorry for me, Menolly. I need no pity from anyone. I am content in my life, and I have my friends and lovers. Count yourself lucky you are among the former and not the latter.” And with that veiled warning, he escorted me to the door and waved me into the night.

As I turned to my Jag, I let out a strangled cry and the door flew open again. “What is it? Are you all right up there?”

My eyes glazing over with anger, I whirled back to him. “No! Somebody keyed my Jag!” There was a long scratch gouged in the paint of my Jaguar, and I was pissed out of my mind.

Carter shook his head. “It can’t be. I have the wards strong—wait.”

He closed the door, and a moment later, when he came out again, the horns had vanished. I knew he’d simply cloaked them, but he made a striking-looking man without the headgear. He made his way up the stairs, somewhat stiffly, but I had the feeling it was more for show than anything else.

“Well, obviously they aren’t working right now. What the hell happened?”

Closing his eyes, Carter reached out one hand. After a moment, he let out a low guttural sound that could have been either a growl or a warning. Or both.

“I don’t know, but the wards have been broken. I’ll find out and call you. Something is on the move, and I don’t like what it seems to be bringing to town.” He slid his hand into his back pocket and brought out his wallet. “I’ll pay for your car to be repaired, of course.”

“No need.” I didn’t want to hold him responsible—I had assumed it would be safe because it always was, but it wasn’t his fault the wards had been broken.

“Nonsense. Here’s my accountant’s card. Get an estimate and we’ll make arrangements. I’ll let him know. And Menolly…” He paused.

“Yes?”

“Be cautious and tell your sisters to be careful. There’s mischief afoot. I’ll call you tomorrow night with what I’ve found. Or your sisters. Either way, I’ll try to have more information for you by then.”

And with that, he nodded gravely, turned, and went back inside. I heard the tumblers of his locks click, and it occurred to me that if the son of a demoness and a Titan felt the need to lock his door, we were facing something very big, and very unhealthy.

The Wayfarer was jammed. Derrick Means, my werebadger bartender, was shooting out drinks as fast as the orders came in. He was working out really well. Derrick was talented, sober, and able to take care of troublemakers. And he knew how to use a shotgun.

Almost every booth was filled, and as I looked around, I wondered when we’d gone from being a moderately successful bar to a happening spot. “Vampire,” by People in Planes, was playing on the jukebox, and several people were dancing.

As I took a closer look, I realized that there were a number of vamps in my bar. We served bottled blood—animal—for them, but I hadn’t been very popular among the bloodsucker set and I blinked. When did this happen? I’d been so busy, I’d lost track of what was going on here. And then, as I passed through, waving at people, I heard their whisperings.

Roman’s consort—she’s here.

She doesn’t look like much. I wonder what Roman sees in her.

Look at those eyes—you can tell she wasn’t ever human.

I hear she’s a lesbian—

No, she’s bi. I bet Roman gets to fuck her and her girlfriend.

So that was it. Somehow I’d gained status—of whatever sort—because of Roman, and it was starting to play out in the bar. The continual ring of the cash register told me just how well we were doing, and as I took my place behind the bar with Derrick, he gave me a quick nod.

“Meni—we need more help.” He had five orders in front of him and I took over two of them.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I flipped a bottle in the air and caught it, pouring three straight shots of whiskey. As I set them on the tray for Chrysandra, she shook her head.

“We not only need a second bartender, but we need at least two more waitresses if this keeps up. Afternoon shift isn’t too bad, but man, around five or six, the joint’s started to jump.” She slid the tray onto her hand and wove through the milling throng, deftly keeping her balance.

I worked quickly, taking the pressure off Derrick. “As I said, why didn’t you guys tell me?”

“You’ve been busy, and we know that it’s something big, though I’m not sure what it is. But this started about three weeks ago. I’m not sure what spurred the increase, but the Wayfarer is one of the hot spots now. And every room in the bed-and-breakfast end is booked up for the next four months. We’ve got reservations from OW up the wazoo.” Derrick grunted and handed out another tray to Lena, a waitress I’d hired to help out topside, with room service for our overnight guests. I saw that they’d drafted her to the floor.

“Shit, I don’t have time to interview. Derrick, you know anybody who’s good, who needs a job?”

But even as I asked, a dark, swarthy vamp sidled up to the counter. “Roman says you might have some work for me?”

I’d never seen him before. “Who are you?”

“I work in Roman’s household, and he suggested you might be able to use my talents. I’ve been bartending since 1885.”

I snorted. “You don’t look a day over forty.”

He flashed his fangs, but there was a glint of laughter in his eye. “Good thing I was only forty-three when I was turned, and not eighty. I probably would have stepped into the sun if that had been the case.”

I glanced over at Derrick. “You think you can work with another vamp around here? He’d have to be with you on the night shift.”

Derrick shrugged as he poured out three martinis. “I’m the lead bartender, right? I’ve worked here for a while.”

“Yes, you’re the lead.” I glanced back at the vamp. “What’s your name? And you do know that I can—and will—check with Roman to make sure you’re telling the truth.”

He inclined his head. “You won’t find anything amiss. My name is Digger.”

I set down the bottle of schnapps I was about to pour. “Digger? Really?”

“I worked for a stint as a gravedigger in the twenties. Before that my name was Joe, but Digger stuck. And the Were need not worry. I won’t try to steal his place, and I won’t put the fang on him.” Digger glanced around. “I can start right now.”

“You don’t even know how much I’d be paying you.” I didn’t like being pushed, and it felt like he was pushing. But if Roman wanted him working here, I’d have to at least consider it.

“Roman said he’d pick up the tab for my work.” Again the fangy smile.

“Oh, he did, did he? I pay my own tabs,” I muttered, but Digger still caught it.

“Roman doesn’t want the increase in business to unnerve your staff. Think of my work here as a gift. A present.”

I knew that emphasis—it meant Roman wanted Digger here, for whatever reason, and I’d play hell fighting the suggestion. I decided Roman and I really needed to have a talk, but now was not the time.

“Fine. Get back here. The rules: You follow Derrick’s lead. I don’t want to hear about any problems from you. Absolutely no drinking from any of the customers. I don’t allow any bloodwhoring in my bar. And keep your mitts off my waitresses’ tips.” I slipped on an apron and hopped over the counter. “I’ll help Chrysandra for now.”

Derrick motioned for Digger to step behind the counter and showed him where everything was. As I began taking orders, I took a closer look at the people who were hanging out in the bar. A wave of vamps, yes, but also FBHs. And then I saw fang marks on some of their necks. Oh crap, the vamps had brought their bloodwhores with them. Delightful. I absolutely refused to allow bloodsucking in my joint. I finished delivering my orders and told Derrick I’d be back in a minute.

I hightailed it to my office, where I wrote up a quick sign—I’d get a professional one made soon—that read, NO BLOODSUCKING ALLOWED ON PREMISES. VIOLATORS WILL BE DRAINED AND STAKED!

When I finished, I carried it out to a spot near the wall clock, levitated up, and quite loudly pounded a nail into the wall, then hung it up. Everyone turned to stare at me, which was what I’d wanted. They’d see the warning sign better if I made a racket and caught their attention.

As I lowered myself to the floor again, I caught several dirty looks cast my way, but I just returned them with a fangy smile. Everybody knew I wasn’t above staking my own kind. Hell, I’d staked my sire, a taboo among vamps, and now I was Roman’s official consort, so they’d better watch their step. It suddenly occurred to me that I could get away with one hell of a lot. Of course, I wouldn’t abuse the privilege, but…the fact might come in handy sometime.

The door opened and I turned to see Nerissa, wearing a long trench coat and heels. Shade escorted her in, then waved and headed back out the door.

I rushed over. “Is everything okay?” I pulled her into my arms, leaning up on my tiptoes to kiss her.

She wrapped her arms around me.

“Yeah. I just asked Shade to come down with me—he can drive my car home and I’ll ride with you. Camille and Morio told me about what went down tonight. I just needed to reassure myself that you were safe.”

Her voice was soft, her lips pressed close to my ear, and I caught a wave of her perfume and went weak in the knees.

“Come with me.” I led her back to my office and shut the door, leaning against it as I turned. “I’m so sorry we haven’t had much time together since I returned from Otherworld. Life’s in such a jumble.”

“Have you given any thought to our plans?” She dropped into a chair.

I sighed. I didn’t want to discuss wedding plans right now. I straddled her lap. “I haven’t had time. Why don’t you just plan what you want and I’ll be happy with whatever you choose for us?”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “I want us to plan it together. It feels like you don’t really care.” Pouting, she fluttered her lashes at me.

“Baby, it’s not that—you know that I care. I want us to have a lovely ceremony, but I’m not good at planning these things. Camille and Delilah helped Iris with her wedding. I just showed up in what they told me to wear.”

I stroked her hair back and kissed her lashes, trying to coax a smile out of her. When Nerissa was ticked, she could hold a grudge for days. And we’d already been through this five or six times already.

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

She ducked her head, then kissed my finger as I gently bopped her nose. “You just…I just want to think you’re as invested in this as I am.” As a tear slowly trickled down her cheek, I felt horrible.

“Sweetheart, you know how much I love you. If I could give up being Roman’s consort, I would. For you, I’d do anything.”

“Roman doesn’t bother me. What bothers me is that I want you to be part of this—not just show up. I want you to be part of my life.”

I cupped her chin and then slid into the chair beside her, taking her hands in mine. “Please, never think I don’t want this. You are part of my life.”

Nerissa shrugged, then sniffled. “Then why won’t you tell me…I don’t know. Can’t you even decide what you want to wear to our commitment ceremony?”

I sighed, then leaned back. I liked clothes but Nerissa and Camille did my shopping, for the most part. They had bonded over fashion and makeup. But one look at Nerissa’s tears told me it was time to step up, to actually make a decision.

“Okay, then.” I closed my eyes, trying to picture myself at the ceremony. After a moment, an image began to shimmer into my mind. “I guess…I can see myself in a long violet gown, with a white cloak, and I want a bouquet of white roses and purple lilies. I want silver sandals, and I want you by my side. I don’t care where we hold our ceremony, I don’t care who is there, except that you’re standing beside me to pledge your love.”