“You just don’t want to explain to Donna and the kids why I’m not around anymore.”

“Damn straight I don’t, so don’t get dead while I’m not there to watch your back.”

“I’m trying to get them to invite you in on this, but they have a serious hard-on against necromancy here.”

“The Irish are so welcoming to almost all kinds of magic, except mine. Peachy.”

“I may have found a way around the mainstream police to bring you over.”

“Do tell.”

“No, I’ll share when it’s a reality, or I’ll share when you tell me how to contact Damian’s old master.”

“Fine, keep your secrets. I’ve got a date to get to.”

“Jean-Claude, or Micah and Nathaniel?” he asked.

“Some mix of those,” I said.

“Do I want to know?”

“Probably not.”

“Have fun then, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Edward, you’re a heterosexual man. I plan to do all sorts of things that you wouldn’t do.”

He laughed then, and we hung up on the sound of laughter, which was a good way to end. I hoped Edward would keep his promise to leave Damian’s old master alone. I was supposed to be his best man at his wedding to Donna. They were finally going to make it legal. I did not want to miss the wedding because the groom got killed in Ireland. I said a quick prayer that he’d be safe and that we’d find a way to stop the killings.

I saw the bright lights of the Circus of the Damned up ahead, turning the night into a carnival of color. I would avoid the bright front and the happy crowds and go in the back, where it was darker, less crowded, and far more romantic. Jean-Claude was waiting for me. It would be a good night.

5

JEAN-CLAUDE’S PLAN TO help Damian was to have him sleep over with us and Nathaniel. He agreed that the three of us needed to strengthen our metaphysical connections with each other. Micah agreed with it, too, which was good, because one of our rules was that the core group of us, the primaries for each other, had to be okay with anything that might affect the domestic arrangement, and adding sleepovers with Damian, even without sex, would change things if it became a regular thing. You don’t think how important just sleeping together can be for pair bonding until you keep changing how you do it, and whom you do it with. Sex was so much easier than actually sleeping with your lovers.

It also helped that Micah had been asked to travel out of town to settle a dispute between two rival shapeshifter groups. They were afraid it would escalate to open war if they couldn’t find someone to come in and help negotiate a settlement between them. Both group leaders had invited the Coalition in, so the chances were good that Micah wouldn’t have to fight anyone to force the fighting to stop, which was great. It meant that when I kissed him good-bye, I worried less that I’d never see him again. After years of him kissing me good-bye when he didn’t know if his badge-wearing fiancée was coming home safe, it was my turn. Let me just say that turnabout was not only not fair play, but it was downright scary.

He had bodyguards with him, and Rafael the Rat King was going with him for a show of solidarity even though neither group were wererats, because the rats were the largest and most powerful single lycanthrope group in the United States. Rafael had done the unprecedented and forged all the rat groups into one huge rodere with one king—him. His actions had been part of what inspired Micah to make the Coalition into a governing body of the groups that either wanted to join or were too dangerous to be left unsupervised.

I was standing beside the big bed in a blue silk robe that touched the floor when Damian came through the door. Jean-Claude was still in the bathroom cleaning up after our date. He’d even insisted on blow-drying my hair with a diffuser so that my hair would be dry before bed, and my curls would be intact. I hadn’t been allowed to use a blow-dryer on my own hair since the infamous white man’s ’fro incident. Thanks to Jean-Claude, I stood there with every curl in place; come to think of it, the blue silk robe had been a gift from him, so it was all his doing. He’d even managed to give me a moment alone with Damian. I suddenly felt stage-managed, but it wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Jean-Claude had lived by his social wits for too many centuries to stop now.

Damian hesitated just inside the door. He was wearing a green velvet-and-brocade robe long enough to hide all but the tips of his slippers. They were new, but the robe was Victorian, as in he’d bought it during that time. It had rubbed spots where the velvet had worn away, and patches where it had been repaired like a child’s much-loved stuffed toy. I knew it was something Damian wore when he was needing reassurance, like his version of our comfy clothes at the end of a hard day.

“How did Cardinale take the news of you sleeping over?” I asked, because I couldn’t help myself.

“Badly, but Jean-Claude made it an order from him, so she couldn’t refuse it, or I couldn’t refuse. When your king summons, you go and do his bidding; that she understood.”

“Okay,” I said, not sure if I’d really gotten an answer, but I let it go. It was too confusing to do anything else with it.

“I like the robe,” he said.

“Jean-Claude bought it for me.” I touched the sash. “He said he wanted me to expand my color range for lingerie.”

“Well, I approve, if my approval matters.”