I'm hot. It's something I've always known objectively and it had been confirmed by men's reactions to me over the years. I'd even had Nicodemus Archleone check me out and feel me up, which was all kinds of wrong. When the man wasn't plotting the next apocalypse, he was banging his own daughter. If I was feeling especially Freudian, I wondered if he was actually attracted to her, or just what he saw of himself in Dierdre. Was it possible to have a level of narcissism that high?

The point being, I'd always turned heads. With both parents at or over six feet tall and a mom who could have doubled as an underwear model if she hadn't tied hers into a perpetual knot, I was destined to be stacked. I'd gotten professional lessons in how to work what I had from one of the most seductive forces in the universe. And yet, I still couldn't hold a candle to Justine.

Justine was gorgeous, even in an oversized men's button-down. The last time I'd seen it, I'd been tearing it free of Thomas' chest, sending the buttons spinning into the four corners of the room. I'd only been able to recover three of them in the aftermath. He'd found someone to fix them in the week since we'd fallen off the wagon. Again. At least we'd made it to the bed and out of Bob's sightline this time. And now I was staring at the love of his life, trying not to remember the last time I'd had sex with her boyfriend.

Great. Just great.

Justine tucked a lock of snowy white hair behind one ear, not quite meeting my eyes. According to Harry, she'd had dark hair once, but a near-fatal feeding from Thomas had resulted in this. It was another thing we had in common. Lara had nearly drained me dry as well, which had dimmed my golden hair down into the color of cream. It had a little more tone to it than Justine's, but not by much. Looking at her, I had to wonder if that was why Thomas couldn't keep his hands off me these days. We could pass for one another if the lights were off and he didn't look too closely.

We could have started a polite conversation and moseyed our way toward the actual reason she was here. It was what most people would have done in this circumstance. But I wasn't most people. I was tired, I was sore, and I'd be missing out on a badly needed shower to deal with whatever fresh hell Thomas was up to. I could feel the anxiety roiling just beneath the surface of her mind, a sour deluge that made me shy away from her on instinct, rubbing my arms to dispel the creeping feeling. She wasn't up for polite conversation either.

"When did you see him last?" I asked.

Justine hugged her middle, fighting not to be sick. "Saturday of last week. He hasn't been himself since Harry died, and he shuts himself away, not talking to anyone. He only goes out long enough to get more vodka. He won't even see me some nights. He's not even feeding."

I cleared my throat and studied the stone wall as if it had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the room. "He...um...well he is feeding. We were ah...together last Thursday. I ran into him and we..."

I risked a glance at Justine in my periphery. I expected her to look stricken or angry. Instead, she teared up and gave me a watery smile, profound relief settling like a perfume in the air between us.

"Oh, thank God. No. No, actually, thank you, Miss Carpenter. I've been so worried."

"Call me Molly," I said. If I was boinking her boyfriend, we should at least be on a first-name basis. "And why are you thanking me? I mean, I'm helping him cheat."

Justine blinked in surprise. "Cheat? Oh no. It's not like that. There have always been others. It's too dangerous not to spread the feedings out between multiple women. Fidelity isn't really an option when you date an incubus, and I made my peace with that a long time ago. I'm just relieved he's found someone. I thought I'd have to find a way to force-feed him before he attacked some innocent on the street." She gave me a speculative look. "And you're quite pretty. He really ought to bring you home sometime. I don't mind watching."

My cheeks flamed, and I was sure I'd just flushed a bright, cherry red. I'd already dabbled in voyeurism on accident and Bob had never let me live it down. The idea of having the woman Thomas loved watch us together in bed was...odd. Though if Thomas thought it was a delightful idea, I wasn't sure I could tell him no. In the heat of things, I'd agree to damn near anything he wanted. My inhibitions flew as quickly as my panties where he was concerned.

Justine laughed and lifted a hand to cup one of my burning cheeks. "You're cute. I didn't expect that."

I stepped away from her, trying to collect my thoughts. A warm pang of desire pooled in my belly, an echo of hers. She wasn't pulling my leg. She looked at me and liked what she saw. I had a feeling that if I agreed to it, she'd do more than watch. I didn't want to have anything close to this conversation while my dad was still in the building. He'd be appalled I was having casual sex with a vampire without adding the possibility of lesbianism into the mix. He was tolerant in theory because he ultimately wanted me to be happy, but I was pretty sure it would scar him for life if he heard explicit plans for a threesome.

"Thomas," I reminded her. "You're here to talk about him, not me. Why do you think he's trying to kill himself?"

Justine sucked in a shuddering breath. "I can't say for sure that's what he's doing but...well, I try to check in on him. I can usually coax my way into his room if only so I can give him takeout or groceries. But he stopped answering my phone calls, and when I came to visit two days ago, he wasn't there. It looked like he hadn't been there in days. Maybe even a week. I looked everywhere I could think of and eventually found that he'd taken his boat out on Sunday. The weather has been terrible, and he didn't return to the docks. I'm worried that he..."

"That he stayed out there on purpose," I finished for her. "That he might want to die."

She nodded, eyes still shiny with tears. They trembled on her lashes before falling. God, how did she manage to look this perfect, even while she cried? I ended up a blotchy mess.

"Maybe I'm being paranoid and he's taking a vacation. There are cabins and resorts he could have gone to, just to get away from me for a while. I know I'm acting like a mother hen."

She tried to sound hopeful, but we both knew it was a lie. Thomas' frame of mind, plus the unwillingness to return to shore despite the weather probably meant exactly what she thought. If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it's probably not a goose in drag.

"If he's on the water, it could be hard to track him," I said slowly. Which had probably been the point. If Thomas was trying to kill himself, he wouldn't want to be easily found. "Do you have any of his hair I could use?"

She shook her head, more tears spilling down her cheeks. "I looked through his drawers and I couldn't find a single comb. I think he took them with him."

Damn, damn, damn. This was bad. Not only was he gone, but he'd also made it near impossible for me to track him by magical means. Thaumaturgy required a link to be effective. Tracking him over the water was already a dicey proposition. Without a conduit, it would be near impossible.

"Can you help me find him?" Justine asked, voice barely rising over a whisper.

Her pain hit me like an icy fist in the gut. She loved him, and the thought of living life without him was inconceivable. She'd crawl into the grave after him. I couldn't swallow around a lump in my throat. I could barely think, barely breathe past her emotions. There was so much there that she seemed to bleed with it. Underneath it all, she wasn't well. Which was another thing we had in common. I really was the ideal placeholder for Justine.

In the end, I said the only thing I could say.

"I'll try, but don't get your hopes up. If he's still out there, he knows how to counter most of what I can do. It won't be easy."

But it was already too late for that. She brightened at my words, some of the worst of her grief lifting off my chest as she wiped away her tears. She believed in me, believed I could do this. Which meant she clearly didn't know my track record at returning people alive. Best not to mention it. I couldn't take a round of hysterics.

Justine leaned forward and gave me a brief but sweet, almost sisterly peck on the lips, which sent heat tingling to the roots of my hair. I'd have to veto whatever thank you she had planned if I brought Thomas back in one piece.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I knew I could count on you. Thomas loves you, you know. I see that when he speaks of you."

"He can't love me," I said. "His skin would burn when he touched me."

She smiled, though it was a wobbly thing. "There are different kinds of love, you know. It's mostly the erotic kind that hurts them. Eros. I'd say you're...phileo. Tender, intimate, but not deep. It's ideal. I'm glad he has you."

I turned away from her, eyes stinging. I didn't want her to see me cry, to see my doubt. I hadn't earned any tender feelings from Thomas. I made it outside before the tears came. I threw a veil over myself and found a quiet place to go to pieces. I needed Thomas alive, though not as much as Justine clearly did. He was a constant. Someone who understood the pain on a level so profound it was almost spiritual.

Here was hoping I didn't fail him too.