how to get rid of him.
Kevin gave a low growl, blocking the
stairway.
He knew. The wolf could
sense what I wanted.
I fought my inner bat for control and
won, but it wasn’t easy. “I need …
food.” The words sounded sort of
strangled, my struggle reflected in my
voice.
“There’s a tray at the bottom of the
stairs.” Emma stepped into view and
patiently repeated what her brother had
already said. “Kevin didn’t think it was
a good idea for anyone to bring it up.”
Kevin was so freaking right.
He pushed Emma back. “Get away,
Em. She’s right on the edge.” He looked
up at me with an expression that mixed
anger and respect. “I’ll be barricading
the door.”
I forced myself away from the half
wall as he closed the door and locked it
audibly—making it very clear that I
would have to go through him to get to
anyone in the room beyond. I flowed
down the staircase to a tray that couldn’t
possibly hold anything that would
compare to what my body really
wanted … needed at that moment.
I guzzled the diet shake on the tray
first, hoping it would take the edge off. It
did, but not enough. My hands were still
shaking hard enough that it was all I
could do to get the lid off a jar of
strained-beef baby food. I couldn’t seem
to get the spoon into the jar. In the next
instant I wrapped my lips around the
opening and poured it into my mouth,
sucking at the goopy contents and
swallowing as fast as I could. I stabbed
and slashed at the glass, feeling my fangs
slide uselessly against the sides of the
jar. Only then could I make my fingers
work right. The shakes finally stopped
after the second serving of baby food.
By the time I finished the third—peaches
—I was actually able to think clearly.
I sat down on the bottom step,
breathing hard, as if I’d been running.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Slowly my brain started to focus. Had
Kevin said video conference? I’d asked
him to set one up, but hadn’t really
thought he would. He’d been so damned
uncooperative last night.
I knocked gently at the door. I couldn’t
smell him anymore, but I bet the wolf in
him could smell me. Hopefully he’d
realize that it was safe—that I was safe,
now. He opened the door a crack and
peered in at me, estimating the threat,
while I squinted past him at the living
room. My plain human vision showed
me that he’d set up video equipment in
the center of the main room. All right
then.
“I’m going to hit the bathroom and
change so I look presentable for the
camera.”
He nodded, pleased that I didn’t press
to go to the others right away. Vampires
are tricky, so my backing down
hopefully helped him realize I was
probably back to normal. At least I
thought I was.
Bruno had brought the bag sitting at
the bottom of the stairs. I could tell by
what he’d packed—all things he could
pick up at my office, including a change
of clothes. He’d even brought my spare
makeup kit, which I kept in my desk.
Best of all, he’d brought weapons—not
mine, he couldn’t have gotten into the
safe, but a sweet little Glock with an
ankle holster. And people wonder why I
love him.
Twenty minutes later, after a shower
and makeup, I was fit to step in front of a
camera. The front room was already
buzzing, but I easily spotted Bruno, who
looked like he’d been through the
wringer. There were dark circles under
his eyes, he had beard stubble, and his
eyes had darkened to almost black, the
way they do when he’s really, seriously
angry. He smiled when he saw me,
which softened the harsh lines of his
face a little. But only a little, and only
for a minute. He was wearing black
jeans and a black Bayview college
sweatshirt that had the sleeves chopped
short and had a vertical slit cut in the
neckline.
“Morning, sunshine.” Bruno tried to
shake off his weariness for my benefit.
He came over to give me a hug and a
quick kiss. “Mnn. You taste like
peaches.” He licked his lips.
“Baby food,” I admitted, giving him a
quick squeeze. “Better than snacking on
you guys. What’s up?” I asked. He shook
his head. Apparently he didn’t want to
talk about it, at least not in front of the
others. Okay, we’ll go with a safe topic.
“What have I missed?”
He opened his mouth to respond, but
didn’t get the chance as Dom Rizzoli
tapped me on the shoulder. He’s the only
FBI agent I know well enough to be
friendly with. Short, dark, and as Italian
as pasta, he was wearing his “fedley”
suit: nice, dark gray suit coat and pants,
white shirt, blue tie, and black shoes
with a high gloss.
“We’re on.”
I didn’t want to leave Bruno’s side,
but there was no arguing with Rizzoli
when he used that tone. Besides, he was
most likely in the thick of things, and I
needed to know what was going on. So I
gave my sweetie another hug and walked
over to the video setup. Kevin pointed to
a masking-tape X on the floor and I stood
on it.
“Good morning, Princess.” On the
monitor in front of me, Hiwahiwa
bowed at the waist. “It is good to see
you well. Princess Adriana will be
joining us in a moment.”
I dipped my head and shoulders
slightly in return. “And good morning to
you.”
“Hello, Celia.” King Dahlmar’s
voice. The video screen in front of me
now split into four sections. Hiwahiwa
was in the upper left, Dahlmar in the
lower right. I spotted Creede standing
next to him. I hadn’t expected him to be
there, but should have. After all, John
Creede has saved the king’s tail more
than once. It would make sense for the
king to call on him for such a special
occasion as his wedding.
John’s a handsome man, with a strong
jaw and good cheekbones. His eyes are
the color of honey, his hair a warm light
brown with golden highlights. He keeps
it cut short, or it would fall in
unmanageable and unmanly curls. His
nose is sharp, not quite a beak, though
there is something like a bird of prey
about him.
“Your Majesty. You look well.”
He made a small scoffing sound that
most kings wouldn’t be seen making.
“My future wife was nearly killed. Her
mother is in the hospital. My country is
turmoil and terrorists are plotting.
Hardly well, I’m afraid.”
There wasn’t much to say to that, so I
didn’t respond. Creede gave me a brief
nod. His expression was odd. Part teeth-
gritted anger; part sad, puppy-eye regret.
He looked good, but like he’d already
been through a long day. As usual, both
he and the king were wearing splendid
suits.
I wasn’t thrilled at my own image, in
the fourth segment of the screen. I didn’t
look great. Nobody had mentioned it yet,
but only because they were all too
polite. If it’s true that television adds
twenty pounds, I was in real trouble.
I’ve been dropping weight for a while
because of my nearly all-liquid diet and
it was really starting to show. I’d gone
from fashionable to gaunt in the last six
weeks. But at least I was dressed in my
own clothes, which mostly fit. For a
moment I imagined what I’d look like in
Emma’s duds—we are so not the same
size or body type—and my stomach
turned over.
Before I could say anything, my image
disappeared,
replaced
by
Queen
Lopaka’s. That made sense.
She was propped up in the hospital
bed. Standing on either side of her, out
of the way of the medical equipment,
was a pair of her personal guards,
looking
grim
and
determined.
I
understood the grim. I hope the full
complement of four were in the room,
two out of sight of the video camera. In
the background, I caught a glimpse of the
aquarium. A pair of angel fish floated
next to a seahorse in the blue-tinted salt
water, while a starfish crawled up the
side wall.
“Greetings, niece, Dahlmar, Mage
Creede.” I noticed that she didn’t
address Rusland’s ruler as “King.”
Well, they were about to become family.
First-name terms for her future son-in-
law seemed reasonable.
At least I’d finally learned enough
protocol to know that when the siren
queen addressed me as family, I was
supposed to do the same. “Good
morning, Aunt Lopaka, I’m glad to see
you up and about.” I was. She didn’t
look good, but she was alive and
upright. And if she was online, she was
out of ICU. Chances were good she’d
recover fully given a bit of time.
“Thanks to you in great part. Without
your warning I’d be dead. As it is, I
believe I may actually wind up with
scars to rival yours.”
Hiwahiwa’s image was replaced with
that of the queen’s daughter. As always,
Adriana was a vision of auburn-haired
beauty. Today she was wearing a raw-
silk suit in forest green, a cream-colored
blouse, and emerald jewelry. She made
me feel like a toad. She looked directly
into the camera and for some reason I
was sure it was my image she was
staring at. After a moment, her eyes went
distant and I knew she was having a
vision.
I’d been with Adriana once before in
a vision. She seemed to work best when
helped through the images. I wasn’t sure
anyone else had noticed her going out of
focus, so I held up one hand to keep the
others from speaking, leaned forward
slightly, and said, “What do you see?”
“You have … fangs, and scars.” Her
voice was gentle and floaty.
“I do. Is that important?” Most of the
worst scars were covered, but the tank
top I wore under my blazer had a scoop
neck that didn’t completely conceal the
claw marks where a demon had gone
after my heart.
I motioned to Bruno for a paper and
pen and waved at Hiwahiwa to come
closer to the camera. I wrote down a
message on the pad Bruno handed me
and held it up for Hiwahiwa to see. Put
a cool, wet cloth against the back of
her neck.
It had worked before to help Adriana
out of a vision. Because, realistically,
we didn’t have all day for her to get lost
in her head. Hiwahiwa leapt to obey.
She pulled the scarf from around her
waist, quickly wet it with some water
from a pitcher, then carefully placed the
damp scarf against the neck of her
princess.
Adriana laughed abruptly, coming
back to herself in a rush. “Oh! I’m such a
fool.” She was talking to herself, so I
didn’t answer.
“Adriana?” Lopaka’s voice was both
sharp and concerned. The queen warring
with the mother.
“I’m sorry, Mother.” Adriana turned
slightly, addressing the image of her
mother, I suppose. “I just realized it
hasn’t been Celia in my visions. So
many visions since I met her, but not her.
It’s someone who looks like her, but
without the scars or fangs.” She was
having a hard time containing her
happiness, which was a little weird
considering the circumstances of the
meeting, but probably made perfect
sense to her in terms of the vision.
She turned to Hiwahiwa and touched
her shoulder. “The cloth helped.”
Adriana had touched her. She bowed her
head and was modest. “It was Princess
Celia’s idea, Highness. I was only the
instrument of her instruction.”
Adriana looked at the camera and
smiled. “My thanks once again, cousin.”
I just nodded. She could have thanked
Hiwahiwa, too. But it wouldn’t do any
good to step into that mess. I’d learned
long ago that Adriana considered her
staff mere tools, whereas I thought of
them as closer to friends. Of course,
Adriana had touched her, which is
something I’d never seen her do. Maybe
I was rubbing off on her or maybe she
was preparing for her new role as
queen. Today’s royalty have to be more
hands-on than in the past. Princess Diana
changed a lot of things.
“I see.” Lopaka obviously didn’t, but
she wasn’t about to let a little thing like
a vision derail this meeting. She spoke
briskly, in a tone that made it clear she
wasn’t interested in anyone’s reaction to
what she was saying. “Celia, I know you
are going to object, but as your queen
and your aunt, I in
sist that you have a
security detail, at least until after the
wedding.”
“No.” My voice wasn’t angry or
insulted. It was just firm.
She tried reason again, maybe
understanding she had no real way to
make demands of me. “You have been
specifically
targeted
by
terrorists
because you are a member of our family.
They may also have seen, as our
prophets have, that you are instrumental
in keeping Adriana alive and seeing her
safely wed. So, object if you must, but
I’m going to insist that you have at least
one agent with you at all times.”
I opened my mouth but was
preempted.
“I agree,” Dahlmar said firmly. “The
wedding must go forward as scheduled.
We cannot show any sign of weakness.
But Celia’s life is too important to be
risked needlessly. She should be
guarded as well as the rest of our
families.”
Adriana was nodding wordlessly.
Maybe reason would work in reverse,
too. “What you’re asking simply isn’t
possible,
Aunt.
I
appreciate
the
sentiment. I do. But the roles of protector
and protectee are very fixed. Adriana
saw me as part of her wedding party in
the role of a protector. I’m happy to take
that role because it’s what I’m trained to
do. But I cannot be watched and guided
and followed at the same time, just as
you could not be both queen and
waitstaff at the same dinner. If I’m
guarding Adriana, I cannot allow anyone
else—including another guard—to be
close to her. The risk might be from the
guard—intentional or not. Can you see
my concern?”
Lopaka entered my mind, and her
voice was the angry sound of chimes
caught in a hurricane. Celia, don’t be
dense. This is another situation like the
one at the shop. The eyes of the entire
world are on us. It is necessary that
you be publicly acknowledged as the
valued member of the royal family you
are. You must have the same kind of
protection as any other member of the
royal family. I will advise my head of
security to assign someone you approve
of to work with you and to help you
select a team who will facilitate your
work in protecting my daughter. I must
insist on this.
I didn’t like that but there had to be a
solution that would satisfy everyone.
Give me a moment to think.
She turned so smoothly to address her
daughter that I doubted anyone knew she