Well, I'm glad everyone loved the JoBe festivities. They're a lot of fun to write, and I appreciate the reviews. Apparently, I was responsible for several heat waves. Heh, heh. On with the show, then.

New York

Josef was gone when Beth woke up the next morning. She wasn't surprised. She hadn't envisioned breakfast in bed, or a snuggle fest while they whispered sweet nothings in each other's ear. And honestly, she didn't want any of that. A night of bed games was one thing, but prolonged intimacy was out of the question. The guilt that Josef had picked up on last night would be rearing its ugly head again, and Beth had already switched into professional mode. The sooner she got this resolved, one way or the other, the sooner they could all deal, and get on with life.

Ignoring the tell-tale stiffness in her body, she took a quick shower, blow-dried her hair, and dressed, not wasting time with make-up or more than a simple brushing and a squirt of hairspray to her hair. She picked up Sara's diary. Josef had dropped it off last night when he came to get her for the party. He hadn't been thrilled about forking it over, but when she started nagging at him about its importance in the research department, he quit bitching, and cooperated.

Sara's entries were relatively short, brimming with dreams and girlish gushing. It reminded Beth somewhat of how she'd been in high school, when she'd believed in Prince Charming, when she hadn't believed she'd ever be jaded. Like in Sara's case, Beth had been an only child, born after years of trying for a baby. You add that to a case of kidnapping? Well, needless to say, Beth had been coddled in the extreme. Just like Sara.

But like Sara, Beth found the over-protection that came with that kind of adoration stifling. Sara had been more dutiful, and merely worked around her father's suffocating habits, while Beth had fought against it, kicking at the walls of her cocoon until she broke free. To this day, Beth and her mother still had issues, as the elder female resented Beth's break from her authority.

Not wanting to dwell on an age-old problem, Beth got down to the nitty-gritty, methodically going over the entries, searching for clues. It didn't take long for her to get to her meeting with Josef, and the journal took on a new twist. Whatever else it may have been, it was the story of a girl slowly coming into womanhood, absorbing various shocks to the system with more grace than her sheltered upbringing and healthy naïve streak would have suggested she'd be able to.

Still, she hadn't really gotten the big picture, Beth couldn't help but notice. Josef was a romantic, tortured hero in her rose-colored vision, their love something out of Beauty and the Beast. Beth had to admit, in the beginning, she hadn't really taken the whole vampire thing seriously enough herself. The idea of vampires, after the initial freak-out, had been a major thrill, and she'd almost treated it like a game. If she'd been dealing with another vampire than Mick, it could have easily ended up in a Titanic-type disaster.

If Josef had been the one she'd been dealing with, would he have killed her to keep her quiet? The internal question gave her pause. Josef was ruthless, and she knew he didn't have anywhere close to the delicate sensibilities of his younger friend, but he wasn't vicious, or needlessly destructive. He would have tried bribery or raw intimidation, and definitely wouldn't have trusted her as far as he could throw the Empire State building, but for some reason she sensed, unless she endangered his secret, she'd be as alive and healthy as she was today.

Of course, if Josef had been the one she was dealing with, he wouldn't have gotten caught. Sara was one thing. She was an innocent, harmless teenager who wouldn't know how to endanger his race. From what she'd read in the journal, it was obvious to Beth that Josef, subconsciously or not, had been leaving a trail of breadcrumbs right to the truth. Sara had guessed because Josef allowed her to guess. Again, that was one thing.

Beth was a whole other story. She wasn't a kid, and she knew her way around, wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty. And more than anything, she made her trade in the media. Hell, Beth herself wouldn't have trusted her fellow reporters with any secrets, so why should Josef have trusted a virtual stranger? No, if Josef had been in Mick's place, Beth never would have figured it out. L.J. would have been dead long before he got a chance to pump him full of silver. And if not, he never would have let his guard down enough for her to see.

Beth spent the rest of the morning and into the afternoon reading Sara's journal. While it was definitely worth its weight in gold as far as a history lesson, and gave her valuable insight into Josef's relationship with Sara, it didn't tell her jack squat otherwise. No mention of Lola, or any female even closely resembling her description.

After she was done, she made the necessary phone calls, feeling like she was playing a circle game before too long. Fortunately, her job had groomed her well, and she had enough patience to wait the process out. Finally, she had the name and number that might go somewhere. Fingers proverbially crossed, she dialed, listening to the phone ring.

"Emily Jones," a voice with a heavy New York accent greeted.

"My name is Beth Turner. Are you Emily Jones, the psychic? I was referred to you by Jennifer Steel." She waited a beat, not sure what to expect.

"What can I do you for, hon?" She sounded warm and friendly, but surprisingly normal.

"I understand that you're legit, one of the best. I need your help."

"Well, I figure you didn't call me up for a good gossip." She chuckled lightly at her own joke. "This supernatural? That's usually my forte, which Jennifer oughta have mentioned."

"It has shades, but not directly." Beth didn't plan on spilling her guts to a faceless voice. "What's your commission?"

"Ah, a gal that's not afraid to get right down to brass tacks. I like that in a client. Eh, that really depends on the case. I'd have to hear what exactly it's gonna take to get the job done."

"We'll have to meet in person," Beth declared firmly.

"Just as well. I'm no good over the phone. Gotta be face to face to do a reading," Emily admitted. "If this involves a third party that won't be there, or can't be there, you better bring me something personal that I can touch. You know, to get a feel."

"I understand." Honestly, Beth had never put too much stock in psychics, seen too many phonies in her time, but if there were 300 vampires in LA alone, anything was possible. "When's a good time for you?"

"Tomorrow, at three?" They quickly settled on an address and disconnected the call. After tomorrow, Beth knew she'd be one step closer to finding out if Sara was out there somewhere.

The rest of the evening was spent verifying Vanessa Eastwood's conclusion, and wasn't surprised when she couldn't find anything to refute it. Bummed, but not surprised.

Okay, so it was official. Sara was really dead. All Beth could hope for was that there was someone out there, with her soul, so Josef would have someone to hold on to.

What about you? An annoying voice whispered in her head and she rolled her eyes. A night of hot sex did not a bond make. Sure, she liked him outside of the sack, he was definitely entertaining and diverting, but so what? She could probably find 10 to 20 guys that fit that bill easy, and weren't half the headache.

Feeling restless, she impulsively hit Mick's number on speed dial. She missed him. He was a comforting presence if nothing else, and she'd come to lean on his friendship. She just hoped he understood that friendship was where it stopped. Now that she reflected on it, she realized Josef was right. She had led him on, and but she knew Mick would forgive her eventually.

"Mick St. John," he answered brusquely.

"Well, good day to you, too," she teased. "What's with the professional touch?"

"Hello." His voice softened, but didn't become any more personal. "What can I do for you?"

Did he somehow know about her tryst with Josef and was already reacting? Irrational worry gripped her gut, but she forced herself not to obsess. Unless Josef put out an article in Vampire Weekly there was no way for him to possibly know. Besides, she hadn't done anything wrong, she told herself. Both her and Josef were single, and she hadn't made Mick any promises…verbally or intentionally, anyway.

"I just felt like a chat. It's been a while since I've managed to get ahold of you, come to think of it." She purposefully paused, giving him time to fill in the blanks, but he didn't. "Our friendship is important to me, Mick."

"All right, I appreciate that. It's not that I mind you called, I just…it's pretty crazy down here." Now he sounded apologetic, but still distant, not like himself.

"Do you need any help?" It would be stretching herself pretty thin, but for Mick, she was willing to bite the bullet.

"There's nothing you can do. Thanks anyway."

"Um, okay." Something was wrong, really wrong. Whatever was 'crazy' was really working a number on him. "Mick, talk to me. Something's-"

"There's really nothing to talk about," he dismissed politely. "It's work, I'm sure you understand. Just watch out for yourself, it's pretty brutal out there. Gotta go."

"But, Mick, we just started talking," she protested.

"I'm sorry about that, but I'm pretty busy. Take care, okay?" Then the other line was dead, and Beth was left staring at her cell phone in bewilderment.

LA

Coraline came down the stairs in time to hear the last bit of the conversation, her body tensing at the sound of Beth's voice. She gritted her teeth. Her and Mick were on shaky ground as was; she didn't need any more trouble. And if anyone would have loved to make trouble for her, it was Beth Turner.

"How was your chat?" she asked lightly, carefully feeling out his mood.

"Distracting," he replied absently. She allowed herself to relax just a degree. So far, so good. Obviously, nothing too explosive had gone down over the phone, but if Coraline had learned anything in the many decades as a vampire, it was to always expect the other shoe to drop. "We don't need any distractions right now. Are you all set?"

"Humph, today's the easy part." Coraline waved a hand about blithely, going over the plan they had formed yesterday. "Later is when it get's rocky. I still don't think you're taking Lance seriously enough. I've seen sweeter Pythons."

"Coraline, my memory is shot, not my brain," he drawled. "I get that he's not a big teddy bear that we can just ask real nice to back off. Why do you think we hammered out a strategy to deal with him? But again I say, it's a big mistake to give him too much power. It sounds like he feeds on fear, get's off on it."

"I'm not crawling into a corner and cowering," Coraline snapped, more angry with herself than Mick. She despised the affect Lance had always had on her, the power he exerted over her. She'd always fantasized about dancing on his grave. Mick raised an eyebrow at her, and she let out a harsh sigh. "Sorry, I'm on edge."

"Good, that'll come in handy if things are gonna go according to plan. He'd be suspicious if you weren't."

"True." Pity the bastard was so damned perceptive, she reflected. It would make it harder for Mick to pull off his end. "Are you sure you've got the acting chops to sell your pitch?"

"Oh, I'm already preparing my acceptance speech for that Oscar," he assured her. "Sure Cynthia will be on board?"

"The day Cynthia doesn't come through for me is the day I start worrying about impending Armageddon," she informed him wryly. "Of course, I've always made her loyalty well worth her while."

"What's the deal with you two? You go way back?"

"Since the 1920's." Coraline's eyes became distant with memories. "She was hooking to make ends meet. I got her off the streets, groomed her. She's one of the few females I've ever been able trust not to have the knife handy to plant in the back."

"What was in it for you?" She didn't take that question as an insult, vampires were self-preservationists by nature, watched their own backs, and the backs of their own. Acts of charity were loaded with ulterior motives a mile wide.

"Of course, I was a far more superior model, but I saw a little bit of myself in her. I was a courtesan in France…a long time ago." Flashes of powdered wigs, ruthlessly drawn corsets, and endless intrigue filled her mind briefly. Then she snorted diversely. "Now that was an art."

"I'll just have to take your word for that one. I talked to her earlier, and she was giving me major attitude. She treated me almost like…"

"A rival?" she supplied wearily.

"Yeah." Mick aimed her a puzzled look. "How did you know?"

"Let's just say you two have never been poker buddies. I think she's always been jealous of you." Not wanting to dwell on Cynthia's neurosis, she quickly changed the subject. "Do you have everything you need for our little production?"

"I've got everything prepared for our appreciative audience of one," Mick promised her, an air of anticipation rich in his voice. He was savoring the thrill of the chase, enjoying the act of drawing the trap around Lance. If nothing else, she'd given him this, Coraline decided. Mick was coming into his own, becoming the vampire she'd always dreamed he could be. No fear now, no pesky inhibitions.

On impulse, she kissed him, pouring every ounce of love and skill she had into the act, delighting in the strangled sound he made, the low growl of lust when he took carnal possession of her eager mouth. She loved the hot and sharp pleasure they generated together. It had never been this good with anyone else, ever.

When she pulled away, they were entangled, their limbs taunt with sexual frustration. "Duty calls, damn," she muttered ruefully.

"You know what they say, anticipation's half the fun." He nipped her neck, then lightly pushed her away, winking at her growl of mock outrage. Despite the fact her body was churning with no relief in sight, at least the Mick variety of relief, this felt so good. Coraline was too jaded to believe in miracles, but maybe this was as close as she needed it to be. He knew one of her darker secrets, his turning, and he still hadn't turned away from her. Maybe she did have a shot after all.

Yeah, right. It'll just come down worse later, she warned herself. At this rate, she was going to start believing in the tooth fairy and Santa.

"I'm off to see Cynthia," she announced. "Don't worry, I'll make it clear you two have to place nice for this to work, but not too nice." She felt jealousy bubble up. It was common for vampire allies to go a few rounds in bed to seal the deal. "If I know my brother, he should show up here, soon. Watch your back."

Last night, they'd set the bait very strategically. Coraline and Mick had set out, Coraline scenting the air for the reek of her brother's decay. Finally, she'd felt his presence, and had launched into quite the performance with Mick. They'd built up a verbal battle, going from mild bickering, to scathing barbs. She thought their performances were golden, but whether Lance had fully bought what they were selling remained to be seen. Either way, he'd certainly reserve judgment until he spoke to Mick. He'd followed them home, so he naturally knew where to look, just as they'd counted on.

"Gee, coach, you put me in the game, let me play. Go on, get out of here. He's probably chomping at the bit as we speak."

"You're right, we don't want him to get too pissy," she agreed. "It'll give him too much time to think clear. He always thinks better when he's having a tantrum."

She headed out quickly, knowing she'd let her love for Mick cloud her judgment if she lingered. She felt her throat closing with fear, fear that Lance would see through the charade, and she'd find Mick's head on a pike when got back. She clutched her gun in her purse with the silver bullets loaded and ready to fire. If her worst nightmare came to pass, she'd only need one.