“Don’t let him. Those who would remember are few and far between, but I won’t have word getting out.”

Damien could hear the smile, and it chilled him to the bone.

“Such decisions, Damien. There are so many ways to destroy, so many ways to rule. What do you think, you mercenary little gutterblood? What would you do?”

Sensing that any answer would be both inadequate and dangerous, Damien took the high road. “I’m not interested in ruling anything but myself. Do what you like. You can, after all.”

It was the right thing to say.

“Patronizing, but true. Be quick about it, Damien. I haven’t got much time. And if you hold me up, you’ll have even less.”

Damien ended the call without a sound, looked at the phone for a moment, then tucked it back in the pocket of his overcoat. He was suddenly very, very tired and felt every minute of the centuries he’d spent just like this, stalking the prey of some spoiled noble who wanted more than they ought to have. In this case, a whole lot more.

But he was a Shade, sworn to it body and soul until the two were sundered. A man only had so many choices with a mark like his, as he’d told Ty long ago, and even fewer good ones. And as he’d told Ty before they’d parted ways with a fight that still ranked among the most bitter Damien had ever been involved in, you either chose a profession where you made the highbloods beg for your mercy or you wound up at theirs.

He had made his own destiny.

People continued to come and go in the October night, oblivious to the fact that the man by the building seemed to vanish in the blink of an eye.

Just as no one noticed the large black cat that stood in his place for only an instant, then turned a corner and vanished into shadow.

Chapter ELEVEN

TY TOOK ONE LOOK at the brawny vampire in the expensive suit and knew they were in trouble. He couldn’t see the man’s mark, but he didn’t need to; he knew highbloods when he saw them. And this one had clamped a hand on Lily’s shoulder with a grip that left no doubt as to his intentions.

Lily had gone completely still, but one look in her wide eyes told Ty she wasn’t any happier about the situation than he was.

“I like it where I am, thanks,” she said, trying to slide away. Ty saw the grip tighten and groaned inwardly. So much for being innocuous. But then, he’d known that having a sexy redhead on his arm would bring him trouble. He just hadn’t counted on it quite so quickly.

“Please,” the other man said, never even bothering to so much as glance at Ty. “I knew he was a gutter cat the second I looked at him. You can’t have been with him long, honey, or you would have realized right away that you’re looking at a serious difference in quality here. I’ll be happy to demonstrate.”

Ty felt the hairs along his neck prickle, a warning sign of a serious flare of temper. He’d learned long ago not to let these assholes and their ignorance bother him. But this particular asshole had his hands on Lily.

“She said she’s happy where she is. Show the lady a bit of respect,” Ty said, his voice low and raspy. It was all he could do to keep himself from growling. That got the highblood’s attention, and Ty could see right away that this one was in a fighting mood. Probably been drinking the high-test O-neg spiked with expensive vodka. He’d be ridiculously easy to take down, this egotistical stuffed shirt with his pretty face and his rheumy, red, drunken eyes.

The problem, of course, was the group of his buddies watching very intently just a few feet away. They always ran in packs, just like the werewolves they hated so much.

“Respect, huh? I think that’s something you need to learn,” the vampire said, his eyes narrowing as he stepped forward. “No stupid cat is going to talk to a Dracul that way. What are you gonna do? Scratch me?” His mouth split in a wide, sinister grin.

Oh, hell with it, Ty decided. He could take them, but it was probably going to be ugly. The alternative, however, was completely unacceptable. He saw a flash of understanding, then irritation, cross Lily’s face.

“I thought you said you didn’t want to cause a scene,” she muttered.

He ignored her.

“I think I’ll show you that bloodline has nothing to do with being able to kick someone’s worthless ass, you piece of—”

Lily cut him off so neatly he never saw it coming and never managed to finish. She spun, as graceful as a dancer, and cozied up to the other vampire, whose curled lip left no doubt that he’d be happy to take Ty up on his offer. The sudden change in her attitude was enough to surprise both men into silence, and when she spoke, her voice was as sweet and smooth as warm honey.

“Oh, Tynan, look! Your friend is coming over to see you.” She waved merrily at someone behind Ty, and a quick look showed him that a wary-looking Anura had spotted the impending scene and was on her way over. He opened his mouth to ask Lily whether she’d lost her mind, but the daft woman continued speaking, and this time it was to the man she’d snuggled up to.

“Maybe you’re right,” she cooed. “Maybe I should broaden my horizons a little. Do you dance? I love to dance,” Lily purred, resting one hand lightly on the vampire’s broad chest and looking deeply into his eyes.

Ty stared, completely gobsmacked. He felt a number of things in that moment, and none of them were pleasant. She couldn’t possibly be thralled, could she? But then, Ty thought as invisible steel bands seemed to encircle his chest and squeeze, he had little to do with the Dracul, whom the Ptolemy hated on general principle. Maybe they had some kind of special technique… maybe he was just losing his touch.

Or maybe the woman had gone stark-raving mad.

But in any case, Lily’s about-face had soothed the pompous Dracul’s ruffled feathers in no time flat. Ty found he couldn’t blame him. If Lily had been looking at him that way, he probably would have stopped being able to think altogether. Something ugly coiled itself into a hot knot deep in his belly.

“I’ll dance as long as you’re my partner,” the Dracul said, just as Anura’s voice sliced into the conversation.

“Ty MacGillivray. I’d say welcome back, but I’ve had just about enough of anyone wearing an ankh.”

The Dracul looked at Anura, who was every bit as gorgeous as a goddess in high dudgeon, and then flicked a smug look back at Ty. Lily, who appeared to have lost her mind, simply gazed up adoringly.

“Oh, you’re one of Arsinöe’s little pets. MacGillivray… I’ve heard about you. Uppity gutter cat, but plenty good at killing, right?” He shrugged. “Explains the gorgeous woman, but you should have known better than to bring her out.” He leaned in close, and Ty could easily scent both booze and simmering anger.

“You tell your bitch queen to keep her dirty spies out of Dracul territory. We’ve earned our right to be here. She keeps it up, she’ll be as dead as the dust she came from,” he hissed, softly enough that only Ty could hear. Then he pulled back to look at Lily. “Come on, gorgeous. I like this song.”

“ ’Kay. Just let me say good-bye,” she cooed. She leaned in to give Ty a quick peck as he stood there, wondering when the hell he’d stepped into an alternate dimension where lesser dynasties openly insulted, even threatened, the Ptolemy queen, and how exactly he was going to get Lily out of Mabon before she became some Dracul’s sura.

Her furious whisper went a long way toward righting his universe, though he had a sudden urge to throttle her.

“I can keep him busy for a little while, but if your conversation with her takes too long, I will figure out how to cut your head off along with a few other pieces, and I am not kidding!” She pulled back with a placid smile, but this time he didn’t miss the steely glint in her eyes.

“Later, Ty. It’s been real.”

She waggled her fingers at him and swept off with her new admirer, leaving Ty staring after her, thinking murderous thoughts. Anura’s impatient voice quickly dragged him back to the present.

“Why are you here, Ty? I don’t remember you being such a glutton for punishment, bringing your women out so they can be swiped from under your nose. Then again, I don’t remember you bringing women out at all. You used to be discreet. What happened? Have the Ptolemy started punishing their servants by hitting them in the head?”

He turned to her, needing to look away from the sight of Lily sliding into another man’s arms and slithering right into the song’s sinuous beat.

“Anura,” he said, keeping his tone as friendly as he could manage with the hot rage now boiling in his chest. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

She hadn’t, apart from the hint of weariness around her dark, almond-shaped eyes that he didn’t remember being there before. Other than that, she was still knock-you-on-your-ass stunning, every inch a Mediterranean goddess. Her long, dark hair was partially pulled up and fell to frame her face in loose curls. The rest tumbled down her back. She wore white, her favored color, and the simple one-shouldered dress was bright against her olive skin.

And she was pissed off. That was also familiar.

“Sure I have. I’ve got even less patience for Ptolemy bullshit than I used to.” When he simply waited, used to her bluster, she huffed a curl out of her face and rolled her eyes. “Damn it, Ty, this isn’t a great time for you to be here. Did she send you? I already told the others, I don’t know where he is. I don’t know anything, except that another bloodbath is really going to kill my business.” Her eyes hardened. “He must have some pretty good dirt on them, for them to call out the big guns on one little Cait Sith.”

Ty tried to hide his surprise, though tonight was testing his capacity to keep his reactions to himself.

“I’m here on my own time, Anura. I haven’t even been at court in nearly a year.”

Now it was her turn to look surprised. “Oh? Did you finally decide to run too? I wondered if you’d get tired of it eventually—though, like I said, this place isn’t as ankh-free as it used to be, and way less than I’d like it to be.”