10: Into the Fire

Pam woke me at three a.m. to give me more blood. I was barely aware of anything other than hunger and slipped easily back into downtime and memories of the past year.

February:

I demanded a copy of Freyda's second marriage contract, and it finally arrived on Valentine's Day, her lawyer's idea of a joke.

Cataliades met me in one of the conference rooms and we went over it line by line. The financial clauses were standard, everything laid out precisely. The clauses on mutual support were typical. If Alabama made a move, Oklahoma would support her, and vice versa. Conjugal visits once a year. Standard clauses about inheriting each other's states – only if no second or suitable successors survived.

Cataliades sat back and mopped his brow with a sigh.

Nothing. Nothing unusual. No clues here.

Profitable Oklahoma made a good candidate for an alliance, that wasn't suspicious. And Freyda let slip that Alabama had approached the previous king, so she coveted this particular state for some reason. But why now, with Freyda, who was an untried and untested ruler, and who insisted I remained part of the package? That didn't make sense. I knew Alabama, there had to be more to it.

We had history, Nadia and I.

She was North African, beautiful and dark-skinned, a proud descendant of Berbers who had fought to conquer the Iberian Peninsula for Arab Caliphs in the seven hundreds. She was born there a century or so later, under Arab rule, in what is now southern Spain.

The first time we met was in Italy, at one of Ocella's houses. I was around two centuries. She called me arrogant, insulted me, taunted me, until I challenged her to impress my maker. Ocella suggested a fight to first blood. I had beaten her despite being half her age, and she took it badly.

In Greece, about a century after that fight, I met her maker. An Arab, Tariq was cultured, knowledgeable, and taught me much. I liked him. When I realised I'd met his child, he questioned me and I admitted the meeting had gone badly. He explained that Nadia had lost her human family when Seville was sacked by Norse raiders in 844. She had witnessed men of my race brutalising her people, defiling her city. Naturally it did not predispose her to react well to me.

Tariq had given me a piercing look then, remarking that as I was not humble man, perhaps I felt the sting of her criticisms keenly, but he believed she had judged me harshly because of something that happened long before I was born. He added we were quite alike, proud warriors always lost with poor grace – a joke at my expense. He had spent many months teaching me the finer points of chess by thrashing me soundly at the game, and more than once I'd lost my temper in frustration.

Tariq might have softened his child's attitude to me in time, if he hadn't had an argument with Ocella that winter. Perhaps it was jealousy, perhaps just a fit of pique, but Ocella ended him without a second glance. That made a truce between Nadia and me impossible. I understood that.

Fifty years later we were both in an area of northern France when a disagreement with the fae flared into open conflict. I was working for the local ruler, leading a group of six vampires. We were ambushed patrolling some woods. Only three of us survived, but we captured a fae warrior for ransom. From her we found out that Nadia had betrayed our location.

It was one thing to pursue a vendetta against me, but to cause the deaths of three vampires, to betray us to an enemy during war – that I couldn't tolerate. Neither could the local king. She was declared a traitor and she was forced to flee the area.

We'd occasionally come into contact in Europe after that, parting acrimoniously each time. Several times I heard that she'd betrayed other vampires for power or money. Then she disappeared off my radar for a few centuries.

We'd met again after she became queen thirty odd years ago, and she had been chilly, but neutral. I thought she'd finally buried the hatchet.

Easter:

Freyda was invited to visit Alabama at her mansion on Lake Tuscaloosa. I had surprised Freyda by coming willingly into the lion's den, but I needed to find out Nadia's plans. If it meant enduring her whip again, so be it. I'd survived worse.

The mansion was not Alabama's main residence, which limited my opportunities to snoop and get a feel for her retinue. She had fewer people here. We brought equal numbers though. Even Freyda, who'd desired this match, was wary of a trap.

Three nights later and all I'd confirmed was that Nadia definitely still held a grudge.

She had begun her campaign to dazzle Freyda as soon as we arrived, impressing her with business deals and displays of wealth. She spun a good spiel about co-operating across clan boundaries, bringing in the southern Zeus, Amun, and Moshup states, creating a network of influence that she wanted to share with Oklahoma. And she had been a very charming, pleasant host.

Freyda was like a child outside a sweet shop, nose pressed to the window, eyes wide and awestruck at the power within her reach. She had contained her enthusiasm, played it coy, but we were leaving tomorrow. Wanting to show willing, keep in Nadia's good graces, she decided a gift was needed.

Under orders I had accompanied her to Nadia's bed again. There had been a malicious gleam in Nadia's eyes all for me.

At least it was Nadia's sheets I was oozing on this time. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and willed myself to look relaxed. There would be cameras.

Mercifully I'd avoided a blood exchange. Freyda had been careful, too. Once at the ceremony was enough: I didn't want Nadia to have more of a hold over Freyda than she already had.

I hadn't showered. I was determined to leave with her scent still on me, sending Nadia a message of defiance. I would not be cowed by pain or disgust; I would do whatever I had to do.

Even if my skin crawled under her scent.

I closed my eyes, soothed myself with memories of an old farmhouse, blonde hair and curves.

No camera could see that.

May:

I'd lost patience with Freyda over Alabama, and when I tried to make her see Nadia was manipulating her we'd argued. She was back to treating me coldly, and she stopped my visits to Tulsa, confining me to her 'palace' again. Not that it mattered much.

I had more pressing concerns than Boscombe – a new vampire had come to town, one I trusted even less.

Freyda was visiting her tonight: Yasmin.

At the end of our Easter visit, Nadia had looked at the mostly male Oklahoma retinue and declared it needed a feminine touch. She sent Yasmin a week later as a 'gift' for Freyda. Nadia's youngest child was maybe fifty, Iranian, dark and graceful. A linguist, she spoke several European languages. Very handy for her role.

It was no secret Yasmin was sent to spy.

When Yasmin was at the palace she was careful never to be alone with me. She never rested in the palace. Nadia had provided her with an expensive apartment, guards, and an encrypted phone line to Alabama. Freyda visited her there often, but I was not welcome. It gave Freyda and Nadia a secure way to speak, one which prevented me listening in on their discussions.

And everyone else as far as I knew, not even Jean-Luc seemed to know what the queens were planning.

I knew Nadia would have other spies too, but who were they?

With my freedom limited again it would be harder to find out. It wasn't just the setback that chaffed. I found being constantly on guard, watching everyone, and being watched in return wearisome.

I found myself longing for Fangtasia and familiar faces.

June:

Nadia's motives were still unknown. I admitted I was getting nowhere and swallowed my pride. I would use a little honey to win over my queen bee.

I asked Freyda to another play in the park, fully prepared to grit my teeth, flirt and fuck her stupid if necessary, whatever it took to get her to trust me a little, as long as it took to find out what was going on. She accepted with a glint of amusement in her eyes that I ignored.

The limo pulled up kerbside. I took her hand as she got out, and we stepped away from the open door. Salvatore was scanning the crowd from the other side of the vehicle as the others moved into position around us. Freyda turned back to say something to him and I heard the unmistakable whistle of a bullet.

It clipped Freyda's shoulder; blood splattering the limo beyond her. I shoved her hard, back towards the open door – the limo was bullet proof, the best protection she had – and then shot straight up into the air scanning the crowd on the lawn.

A second shot came as she dived into the car, and as I was already scanning in the right direction I caught the flare of a gun from a nearby building. I glanced down as I dropped towards the trees. The round had hit the vampire who'd moved to slam the door closed after Freyda.

Fuck, the bullets must be silver or wood. He'd taken a hit to the heart and was already flaking away as Salvatore leapt over the hood and zigzagged towards the shooter's position, yelling for everyone to take cover.

I flew towards the building, using the trees edging the park for cover as I approached. I paused briefly to check for silhouettes on the roof before I shot across the open space over the road and flew up, tight against the building, spiralling around it to arrive from the back.

I shot above the roof edge too quick to track, hoping to surprise the shooter.

He or she was already gone.

I landed by an abandoned sniper rifle, alone at the scene. The barrel was hot, two shells on the ground. An equipment bag lay open nearby, abandoned. The scent of an unknown vampire – I inhaled deeply, fixing it in my memory.

I leant over the edge. Salvatore was scaling the building, three floors down. I was about to call to him, when there was a dull thump behind me. I whirled around in a crouch to meet a wall of smoke billowing from the bag. It stank, an acrid choking smell stinging my eyes and nose, and then the cloud began falling softly onto the roof. Fuck. Covering the scent.

Freyda was furious when we got back to the limo.

We traced the gun to a store in the city, bought that day by a glamoured human with false ID and cash. No leads. The stink bomb had been rigged on a timer. No phone signal to trace.

Clean job.

We met to discuss it, and the consensus was it had to be a professional.

I'd ordered the tickets online myself a few days earlier. I'd surprised Freyda with them near dawn the night before. No-one else knew until the night, an hour or so before we left.

The question on everyone's mind: how did they know we would be there?

Freyda looked at me with suspicion. The room went quiet. Fuck.

"I told no-one but you before that night. Did you tell anyone my queen?"

She sat back, frowning. "My maid at dawn the day before. But only to get an outfit ready, no more." Her eyes intent on mine she added, "It's a shame Salvatore did not catch this vampire's scent before the stink bomb detonated." I meet her gaze steadily; her implication that I'd set it off hanging in the air. The moment passed. "No matter. Jean-Luc, we must tighten security."

Later, in my quarters, I paced, thinking.

Freyda had my laptop bugged. Freyda and probably Jean-Luc would have known a few days ago that I'd bought tickets. Freyda was hardly likely to commission a hit on herself – although, for a professional, the shooting sucked. She should be dead. Hmmm. Who would benefit from a near miss?

Whoever planned last year's bombing wanted her dead. So not Jean-Luc or Boscombe unless their agenda had changed.

Nadia. Shit. Whatever she had planned, she needed Freyda. Freyda would turn to her more readily if she was threatened, especially if she suspected it was me trying to kill her. Which was not unreasonable. Fuck knows I'd wanted to snap Freyda's neck many times, and Freyda knew that: I'd been vocal enough about my discontent since they married.

But how would Nadia know our plans?

Yasmin. She'd been in the palace last night. Although she'd left before I gave Freyda the tickets, but if they had plans Freyda might have called to cancel, mentioned the play? Or Yasmin had an informer …

Freyda would never believe it was Nadia just on my word, not now she suspected I'd acted against her.

Persuading her with honey had failed. Instead I'd stirred up a hornet's nest of suspicion.

August:

Freyda no longer trusted me. She was snippy and demanding, didn't want me in her bed, or alone with her. Since the sniper I'd been a model consort, but she wasn't thawing. The tightened security included curtailing my freedom and watching me every minute of my nights. It was tiresome.

I was surprised when Freyda sent me to Ardmore again to meet Isabel, even with more guards discretely in place. But Texas might have realised something was afoot in the state of Oklahoma if I hadn't come. Freyda couldn't have that. And Freyda might be giving me a noose to hang myself, hoping to catch me in an act of betrayal.

I noticed the emerald ring as soon as Isabel sat, opening her briefcase and pulling out paperwork.

It was Pam's.

I was instantly hyper-aware of my guards. The meeting progressed normally. We swapped information on the Chosen, talked business. Then, an hour in, Isabel fiddled with the ring once, twisting it. Salvatore, the closest, didn't react.

She shuffled her papers, handing me a safety report on an oil spill at one of our joint refineries, apologising that costly modifications were needed. I sat back and looked over the report quickly.

Right at the bottom of the last page, on the plastic cover in marker pen: runes. Under cover of a heated discussion over who should pay for the safety improvements, I wiped over them with my thumb. Some of the lines wiped clean as I anticipated, leaving behind an innocuous tally, scribbled sideways in haste. Simple but effective, Pam and I had used this to hide messages before.

Salvatore took the papers after Isabel left, checking them over for messages as always before he took them to Freyda. He didn't appear to notice anything.

In the back of the limo later – yes, Freyda was spiteful enough to withhold the Ferrari – I thought over the message.

Three phrases: Wait. Midwinter. Battle.

I was to wait for the December solstice, help would come.

Pam was the best choice I'd ever made.

October:

Something big was coming soon. I could smell it.

Freyda was visiting Yasmin more often, and she was tense. Her banker visited twice unexpectedly. I overheard a donor talking about some new vampire she'd met in the city, caught his scent from her and recognised it. A hard-faced, taciturn Russian I had known in St Petersburg. A mercenary.

I needed information now.

I couldn't trust Carter, he reported to Freyda. I had to trust someone. Vittorio, he was the most relaxed of my guards but no, too risky. I decided on the Were, Jephson. He owed me for Ralph.

I'd been excluded from security meetings, but I still trained weres in the gym. I took advantage of the noise, and that the vampire guards were used to us chatting. And I knew he could lip read.

"Do you trust Yasmin?" I mouthed, as I brushed by him to replace a sword. I stood beside him to watch the sparring.

He was quick-witted, didn't betray any surprise. 'No. I think he's improving." He gestured at a young wolf.

"I need to keep an eye on that one."

He looked at me for a beat, made a decision. "You need eyes in the back of your head with these cubs."

"Yes. Even I don't have those."

"No. Only mothers do." He watched the sparring for a minute, thinking. "I'll bring some new equipment next time."

A week later the wolf made good. I took my boots off to spar with the weres. Better grip on the floor. When I put them back on, I felt whatever Jephson had dropped in one, unseen by everyone else. I gave him a slight nod as we finished up; he had discharged his debt.

I sat on my bed, and tipped my boot, catching a small well-padded package: a bug and a receiver. The bug had options. I didn't know what security Yasmin had, so I planned to set it for a delayed recording of two hours, and then have it sit silent until I triggered a download to the receiver; safer than a live transmission from Yasmin's apartment that might be detected. I could listen to it later in private, in my quarters.

Now all I had to do was find a way to plant it in Yasmin's apartment.

A few days later some donors gossiping about Halloween costumes gave me an idea. Freyda's dressmaker was making Yasmin a Seven Veils costume.

The costumes arrived in Freyda's office two nights before Halloween. Mine was a French Foreign Legion uniform, in keeping with the 'desert' theme. Freyda really had a thing for that. I made sure to collect it early, when her office was empty.

I winked at Vitto. "Let's just see what the ladies are wearing." Chatting as I opened a few of the garment bags, I found Yasmin's and, covering my movements from Vitto and the cameras, I put a small tear in the bag's lining, slipping the bug inside. Then I made a show of holding up Freyda's elaborate 'Queen of Sheba' costume. Vitto shook his head. "She won't be pleased. Put it back."

I shrugged and replaced it.

Later that night Freyda took the costume to Yasmin's for a fitting. It would come back to Freyda's office for alterations because Yasmin was dressing here on the night. Perfect.

I was casually strolling across the lobby when Freyda came back, the dressmaker carrying the garment bag. I pressed a button on the receiver in my pocket and felt it vibrate once the transfer completed.

I headed to my quarters and listened impatiently to forty minutes of inane chatter about the party, the costumes. And then hit pay dirt. Nadia called. I only got Freyda's side but it was enough.

'Good Evening, your Majesty… Yes, everything is on track… How are things with you?... Good, good. We have to move soon, before he gets wind of it… No, no. Just suspicious… Yes, you're right, timing is everything… Okay. I can wait. It'll be worth it to see the look on that bastard's face… Oh, he'll be furious if a certain Sheriff is among the casualties… No, I don't care about the ex; she's totally out of the game… Oh, an asset? Perhaps, but I wasn't that impressed… Yes… Yes... No, I'll check that… Uh-huh. Two dozen... Yes. We'll speak soon… Goodnight, Nadia.'

Fuck. I listened impatiently to the rest. Nothing else relevant. I went back to conversation, listening to Freyda's tone carefully.

I sat back.

They were planning to take Louisiana.

Freyda wanted to move soon; Nadia was holding back for the right moment. When? Before or after the solstice? Could I afford to wait?

Nadia would gain control of three states – possibly four, if she included Arkansas – creating a solid power base. Mississippi surrounded, squeezed on both sides. And Nadia was meticulous these days. She would be unassailable once she had loyal vampires in place.

Nadia was the mastermind: Freyda swept along by her own ambition and Nadia's promises of power. Was Nadia tempted by de Castro's overextension? Or had she planned this for some time, and de Castro had pre-empted her?

Fuck, de Castro had weakened Louisiana by letting me go. He had to have shored up his rule by now, surely. I pulled my hand through my hair, frustrated at how little I knew about Louisiana's defences.

It didn't matter. Bottom line: Pam was in danger. Sookie too. Nadia had no reason to leave her alone if she took Louisiana, the protection decrees wouldn't stop her once she had four states. She would take her as an asset to spite me. And Freyda's agreement to leave Sookie alone was only good as long as she needed me.

I had to hope that Freyda was astute enough not to trust Nadia completely, and, even if she didn't trust me, that she'd want me for protection a while longer.

I must give her no reason to doubt me. Make myself useful, indispensable.

But first I'd take one last risk.

It was treason, death if I was caught, but I had to get a message to Pam.

I rose early, anxious.

Lifting the carpet in my closet, I checked the floorboards had not been disturbed, then levered up the one I'd loosened when I moved in over three years ago. I pulled out a small combination-locked fireproof box.

I opened it, taking out one of the three unregistered phones. Turned it on, checked it over.

I changed the combination, locked up the box and replaced it. My scent was all over the closet, it wouldn't give the hiding place away.

I typed a summary of the situation into the phone. I created an audio file of Freyda's phone conversation, attached it to the message and programmed in the email address Bartlett had given me. All I needed to do to send it was push one button.

I destroyed the receiver, rinsing the remains down the shower.

At sunset, I surprised the Were guards outside my quarters. I made a joke about their snoring waking me, and then went to the lobby. Cell coverage was strong here, and it was busy. I hoped the other phone signals would camouflage mine. Phone in my pocket, I hit the button as I chatted to the receptionist, checking for deliveries.

Then I patted myself down. I groaned. "Forgot my phone. I'll be right back."

As I expected, the Weres stopped at the entrance to the wing. Slackers.

Out of sight, I ducked into a blind spot hidden from the cameras and destroyed the phone, tipping the pieces into a large plant pot I'd relocated here two years ago. I worked the pieces into the soil thoroughly, and shoved my dirty hands into my pockets for the walk to my quarters.

I washed quickly, changed into identical pants and grabbed my real phone.

No-one was any the wiser.

Later that night I picked up my costume from Freyda's office. I opened the bag to check the alterations, and whoops, dropped a glove. Bending to pick it up where it had fallen under the rack, I felt quickly along the bottom of Yasmin's bag, crushing the bug when I found it.

No loose ends.

The Halloween party wound down around 3a.m.

Much later, I was coming out of the donor lounge when the alarm sounded.An hour before dawn and the day guards weren't here yet: we were vulnerable. Vitto's radio crackled to life as I sped to the gym, grabbed a sword, and threw one to Vitto as he caught up with me.

"The lobby – Jean-Luc needs us there," he said, catching it nimbly. We raced for the stairs.

I leapt the balcony, landing next to Jean-Luc, Vitto not far behind. Four of our vampires were defending the entrance, using it as a bottleneck to keep the attack at bay. Two more were moving human bodies to the wall, clearing the floor except for bloody trails.

"Situation?" I asked Jean-Luc.

"Attacks in three places. This is the largest force."

"Freyda? Salvatore?"

"She's upstairs co-ordinating: warning the Weres, checking in with Tulsa and Lawton. Sav is defending the ballroom."

The fighting at the door broke off. A younger vampire yelled and broke rank to give chase. Another fool followed.

"Hold position," I roared, moving forward. One of the two remaining vampires yelled, "Machine guns!" They both ducked for cover. I threw myself to the side just as gun fire sprayed into the lobby, bullets chipping the marble floor.

As the gunfire stopped, a wave of attackers took advantage of the clear entrance and swept into the lobby. Weres: some already shifting, dropping guns in favour of teeth and claws.

The vampires followed their training automatically. We fell back to the wide base of the stairs, using the steps to give us a height advantage. Seven of us, thirty of them. A whole pack. Fair odds.

I glanced at Jean-Luc beside me, bloodlust in his dark eyes and his ferocious grin mirroring mine. Vitto yelled wildly, and a volley of silver knives took down the first wolf.

I was aware of Jean-Luc moving with the grace of a dancer on my right, taking down his opponent with a few strategic kicks and punches. I roared, fangs down, the joy of battle pulsing through me as I stabbed the grey wolf leaping towards me. His momentum combined with the force of my thrust carried him almost to the hilt of my sword. I cursed, about to throw off his dead weight, when a slew of bullets raked across the mass brawl at the foot of the stairs.

"Silver bullets," Vitto yelled in warning as the vampire next to him took a stray bullet and dropped to one knee.

I used the dying Were as a shield. Half the Weres were hanging back, and they had firing indiscriminately, careless of their own side. There was a break in the gunfire. I swiftly dropped my kill to the floor, bracing the now human body with my foot and pulling out the sword.

A great gobbet of blood fountained from his chest and the smell hit me as Jean-Luc shouted out an old warning. "Le parfum toxique! Merde, don't breathe! Don't breathe." Fae, they'd taken fae blood. That's why they were shooting their own.

It was too late for two of our younger vampires, already lost to bloodlust and tearing at weres on the ground. Fuck. A look passed between the three of us: me, Jean-Luc and Vitto.

As one we leaped over the line of fallen weres and took the fight to the enemy, taking the shooters out first. I lost myself in the timeless dance of battle; weaving, swinging, dodging and slashing by instinct.

As more blood spilt it became harder to resist the scent. I heard Vitto lose control. Jean-Luc was struggling, swearing violently in French. Finally I couldn't hold back. The bloodlust took over.

Jephson's voice, nearby. "Fuck. It's a bloodbath in there." Then louder, barking sharply. "Hold it together Daniels! Don't shift! Get those doors closed." I heard slamming.

I staggered to my feet, kicked a mangled corpse away from me, and wiped gore from my mouth with my sleeve. I spat, pulled my matted hair off my face, and assessed the situation. I had wounds on my shoulder, back and side, but I'd gorged on blood and I was healing rapidly.

The sky was lightening in the arched window over the main doors. Dawn. Soon.

Outside was quiet, apart from some muted snarls – Daniels would get a reprimand for that. I shook myself, trying to focus.

Inside the attackers were dead, torn to pieces. Those of us who were left were drenched in blood, the rest still gorging on the fallen Weres like animals. Jean-Luc looked up when I called his name, eyes glazed for a moment until he focused on me.

"Dawn is coming. Snap them out of it." He swayed as he moved to obey.

I slipped out of the door. Jephson, to his credit, stepped forward to greet me. Some of his men flinched.

The circular driveway was littered with broken bodies. Jephson reported in rapid-fire. His Weres had come up behind this group and attacked. No-one had escaped. Three battered humans were sitting on the grass under armed guard. He left his men tidying bodies, and followed me back inside, radioing his other units.

I looked round. "Where's Vitto?"

Jean-Luc looked over from where he was slapping the last vampire out of bloodlust. "He didn't make it." He nodded at a flaking corpse barely visible underneath two dead Weres. I swore softly, pushing the bodies off him. He'd fought well.

Jephson signed off, holstered his radio, and reported, "Sir, the ballroom is secured. The windows are smashed, a couple of injuries, but that was all smoke and no bullets, meant as a distraction I reckon."

I nodded in agreement. "They expected to catch more of us there still partying."

"Yeah. Seems likely. A smaller group came through the delivery entrance. A couple of kitchen staff got hurt, but they barricaded the inner door so the enemy was trapped in the kitchen area and my men mopped up. No survivors."

"Good. We have to go to rest. Can you get this cleaned up, see to the injured staff and arrange extra donors for tonight?"

"That's what you pay me for, sir." I nodded briskly, and he went outside to marshal his men. They would have a long day ahead.

Freyda, if she followed our plan, would be locked in her safe room. I reminded Jean-Luc to send her the all clear. The others were back to themselves, looking round groggily. It helped that dawn was beginning to pull on us.

As the room emptied and quietened, I became aware of a heartbeat. I leant over the main desk to find a receptionist cowering underneath it. Shit.

Jean-Luc was still on his phone, reassuring our audibly pissed queen.

I looked around. The water cooler. I strode to it, pulling off my shirt, and ripped the barrel off the base to give myself a makeshift shower. For a towel I tore down a blue velvet drape embroidered with Freyda's gold crest, a pointless decoration covering a blank wall – Pam would be amused I'd finally found a use for one.

Hoping the woman wouldn't scream at the sight of me now, I rounded the desk and crouched in front of her. Head buried in her arms, shaking silently, she didn't see me. What was her name? Oh, yes.

"Tammy, it's over. Tammy, look at me."

She raised her tear-stained face, eyes wide, and gasped, "Eric, don't–"

I caught her gaze and said softly, "Stop crying. You are calm, safe. You're going home now, and you will sleep soundly all day."

She sniffed loudly. "Yes Eric. Go home. Sleep."

"Good girl." She grabbed her purse and I walked her to the door, shielding her from the room. "Jephson, make sure this one gets home."

He nodded, and I sped back into the palace, racing dawn to my quarters.

I rose fully healed the next night.

I'd come in so close to dawn that I'd dropped my ruined shoes and pants by the door, grabbed a blanket and slept in the bath. It made showering faster tonight.

I dressed, shoved the soiled items into a pink trash bag and left it outside my door. The palace ran a simple system. White bags for laundry, pink for the incinerator.

The lone Were outside my quarters looked exhausted. Full moon was tomorrow night.

He yawned and told me Jephson had set up a headquarters in the main conference room. I headed there via the lobby, checking security. Double guards, double patrols at the perimeter. Good. The vampires would be on shift soon to relieve the exhausted Weres. The lobby was quiet; most staff were using the less exposed back corridors to get between the wings.

A harried looking Jephson was dressing down an unfortunate Were when I got to the conference room. "And next time I don't want to hear excuses! Now get to it."

"Yes, sir," he answered sullenly.

"And less of that attitude," he growled after his retreating back. "Eric, want the bad news or the really shit news?"

I grimaced. "All of it. And be quick."

"We lost nine vamps, three Weres, two human guards hired for the party who hung around after. That needs covering up – car crash, maybe. Their boss knows the score, won't be trouble.

"Three of my Weres are injured; they'll be out for a month or so. I have replacements lined up, and for those killed. Two of the kitchen staff have gunshot wounds, stable but serious. They'll accept blood to heal if anyone's willing.

"We have three human captives from their main force. The rest of the humans – about twenty all told – are dead. No wallets, no IDs, but a few tattoos indicated some were ex-cons or bikers so perhaps they won't be missed. Captives ain't given us shit yet.

"All forty-three Weres are dead. The dozen Salvatore dealt with in the ballroom had fae blood too," he pulled a face, "so not much to identify. The Weres also had no ID, no pack markings on their clothing."

"So no leads on who they were, or who sent them."

"No. Not yet."

"Fuck. Freyda is going to be pissed."

He muttered, "What's new?"

I repressed a smile. "So, how did our system perform? Anything we could improve? Holes that need filling?"

"Some of the perimeter patrols didn't get off a warning. We lost four vampires under a century and two Weres there. Jean-Luc's going to be pissed. He had older vamps down to patrol all night, but they switched for the party. Younger vamps have to be paired with more experienced ones maybe?"

I nodded, and he carried on. "On the plus side, even when we lost communication because Salvatore and Jean-Luc got batshit high, everybody knew what to do. Without the drills, the training you've done, it would have been much worse. We could station some dedicated comms personnel – Were or human?"

I shook my head. "No, either would have been drained dry in the lobby last night."

"The receptionist–"

"Was very lucky. Had she screamed, tried to run …"

He looked at me. "Like junkies on angel dust, huh?"

"Something like that." I thought for a minute. "We could have used the cameras. If someone was watching, they could co-ordinate."

"The only place with all the camera feeds is Freyda's office." We looked at each other.

"Freyda was supposed to co-ordinate last night." I frowned. I didn't remember her giving orders over the radio.

"Yeah. She went to her safe room – no camera feed. To keep it from being found in a siege."

I huffed. He knew more about the safe room than I did. Freyda hadn't even trusted me with its location.

"Anyway Jean-Luc and Salvatore were beyond listening to–" He broke off as Freyda stormed into the room, Jean-Luc behind her.

"Report to me now!" she demanded in an icy voice. "Exactly how did a bunch of stinking, disorganised animals and human detritus managed to breach your precious security system, while I was forced to hide like a scared rabbit in my own home."

Freyda yelled. At me, at Jean-Luc, at everyone.

And again when she finally let Jephson report on his meagre findings.

I let it wash over me. She was rattled; she'd calm down when we had a handle on things.

Freyda locked down the palace for the night while the grounds were searched for evidence, and she instituted a communication black out with other kingdoms. No need to advertise an attack. Spies would spread the news soon, but we had a slim chance to identify the culprit before word got out.

Jean-Luc and I questioned the captives. Under glamour they gave up their names, their occupations (two thugs and a mercenary), that they'd received cash up front, and their contact's name. He was one of the dead weres.

Jephson's men had found their vehicles and brought them into the compound during the day. They were hired locally, so they were returned and information gathered from the hire companies, by glamour where necessary. Discrete enquiries were made at the airports, bus and train stations.

A picture emerged by the end of the night. The humans had hired the vehicles with false IDs, naturally. They had a range of American accents. The Weres hadn't travelled together. Some arrived by bus, some by train, over several days and from various locations.

Our Weres would use the day to check local motels and watering holes. By tomorrow night we would know where they'd stayed and met up.

Whoever was behind this had money and a long reach. Hiring forty Weres and twenty humans for this kind of work was expensive. Setting up fake IDs, travel arrangements, car hire and weapons took time and money.

What alarmed me was the fae blood. They'd 'sweetened' a lot of Weres. It was clearly meant to cause chaos, a massacre. If it had happened during the party, while local human dignitaries were here – that would have been disastrous. Much harder to cover up. Impossible in fact as Freyda had allowed a local TV crew to film guests arriving from outside the gates. The attack came well after the cameras and guests had left, so at least we weren't dealing with a madman or an attempt to discredit vampires.

Where had they got fae blood though? The portals were shut; not from the fae realm itself. From fae left behind then. And that much …. four fae? Or one kept a long time, harvested? Someone would regret that if Niall ever found out. Keeping a fae prisoner for blood directly contravened the last treaty. Was it possible that a fairy left behind had been desperate enough to trade blood willingly?

Four nights later I was standing in front of Jean-Luc's decorative wallpaper. He'd covered one wall of the conference room with notes and photos.

There was a large scale map of the city with the hire car companies, four motels and three bars they'd used all marked.

A map of the country was dotted with thumb tacks; two colours to mark the attacker's hometowns, red for Weres, black for humans. There was a red and black cluster in California (biker gangs, human and Were) and another in New York (street gang members). The rest were scattered randomly.

Two prisons marked with blue pins (in California and South Carolina) were linked to a handful of tacks by blue thread. The names of two military units were scrawled next to the map in Jephson's handwriting, a spider web of green thread linking to another half dozen markers.

There was no obvious pattern or large cluster, just a loose network of violent acquaintances.

We were working on leads in New York and the Californias, but it was slow because Freyda didn't want to alert those kingdoms officially. She had spies in more local kingdoms – Texas, Colorado, and New Mexico – but they hadn't found anything yet.

I stood examining a macabre photomontage showing tattoos on a selection of bloody body parts from the fight. The body art had helped trace the hired muscle to military units, prisons, and gangs. Jephson had taken the photos. He had a good eye for framing.

A guard's radio crackled to life behind me. I was being summoned to an audience in the second hall. Did Freyda need me to dispatch someone?

As I walked in, a deep silence fell, the kind a vampire only hears amongst other vampire.

It's never good to hear that when you walk into a room. I took in the scene as I stepped further onto the checkerboard tiles, not breaking stride or giving any sign of concern.

Freyda and Jean-Luc stood by the dais with Salvatore and a couple of guards. I had interrupted a disagreement from the look of it, but their eyes were all locked unwaveringly on me.

In front of them, back to me, was a tall figure, long black hair tied neatly back. Boscombe. His second was beside him and he had a vampire at his feet, trussed in silver and gagged – a present for Freyda no doubt, like a half-dead frog left lovingly by an affectionate cat on its owner's pillow.

I altered my course to stop alongside the Tulsa sheriff. I looked down at the prisoner, rolling him over with my foot. I recognised the bound vampire from Tulsa. He worked as a bartender and a bouncer in Boscombe's club. "What do we have here Boscombe?" I asked, with an expression of mild enquiry.

"Ian Wallace. A spy for Texas. I caught him leaving my area very suddenly last night. Suspicious timing, don't you think?" Wallace protested weakly from behind his gag.

I shrugged, staying relaxed while my mind raced.

The attack came right after I sent word to Pam. Isabel, Stan: both had passed me messages from her. They were in contact. With preparation Texas was strong enough to take Oklahoma, but this attack was weak. Had my warning forced Texas to show his hand too early?

I asked, "How long have you known he was spying for Texas?"

"Oh, a while. He had these hidden in his dwelling." His second held up a clear plastic bag with a motley collection of wallets. I had a strong intuition they would smell of wolf, infused with fae.

"You've questioned him?"

"Yes. He denied it, of course. But the wallets... seem to belong to some Weres we're all very interested in." He paused, watching me. He liked to see people squirm, but I gave nothing away.

"You think Texas was behind this? It doesn't seem like his style." I could feel the others watching me as well. What was going on? I supressed a sudden urge to find an exit and use it.

"No, but his agents may have been fomenting trouble here, trouble from another quarter, to weaken us. I believe the aggressors had local help. From this worm here," he kicked Wallace hard in the kidneys, "and from a traitor in the palace."

I held his gaze. "And who is that?"

"Well, I'm not sure." He tapped his chin in mock thought. "We're looking for someone who made regular visits to Tulsa to make contact with Wallace here..." He trailed off, still looking at me.

I growled. I straightened, looking right into Freyda's angry eyes. "Majesty, I had nothing to do with this attack." I said firmly.

I was already calculating. Jean-Luc and Boscombe together would be tricky, and Salvatore looked like he wanted to rip me apart for his brother's death. Not good odds, but a slim chance of escape…

Freyda growled back. "Is it coincidence that I have been attacked four times since I raised you up to consort?"

"I had nothing to do with any of those attacks. If I wanted you dead I had many easier opportunities." I delayed, shifting my weight slowly, ready to jump into the air as soon as they moved.

Footsteps sounded behind me, and a voice rang out.

"Freyda, darling, I came as soon as I could." I turned, taking a step back from the group, to see Nadia striding confidently into the room with her six personal guards. Fuck. Odds down to miniscule.

She took in the tableau in front of her. "It looks like I arrived fortuitously. Is there something rotten in the heart of Oklahoma, my dear? I couldn't help but overhear."

Her entrance was no fucking co-incidence, but that was all I had time to think. I tensed as Salvatore snarled, and then it began.

Freyda and Nadia stood back to watch, and a loose circle formed around me, two of Nadia's vampires stepping into the middle eagerly with the enraged Sicilian. Might as well give the audience the show it wants, I thought as I dodged Salvatore's first attack.

They overwhelmed me eventually.

Nadia's two vampires were worse for wear. I made sure Boscombe took an elbow in the face when I had chance. After it hit home with a satisfying crunch, he backed away to reset his broken nose. Jean-Luc hung back for a while waiting for an opening. It was his elegant kick to the back of my knees that finally brought me down. Bodies piled on quickly, pinning me to the floor. My arms were pulled behind me and silver cuffs snapped onto my wrists. A thick silver chain was wrapped around my legs.

The crushing press of bodies lifted. Salvatore used the cuffs to yank me up onto my knees.

I spat blood. Then I pulled myself up to my feet, despite Salvatore's weight hanging on the cuffs behind me.

I stood tall and looked Freyda in the eye. "Don't tell me. The divorce papers are in the mail."

She punched me. Boscombe's nose must have hurt because he took a gut shot too.

Then I was dragged away.

I came out of downtime briefly at dawn. My injuries ached, and I moaned softly as Pam curled around me. Her presence comforted me, but I slipped away before I could thank her.

.

A/N: Phew. We're almost done with the flashbacks. I hope the twists aren't too confusing.