“Goddammit!” Bethany Cassopolis came storming down from the scaffold, a lighting canister in one hand. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Ignoring her, I eased the folds of Salome’s robes off her nearest arm, revealing dozens of lines of cutting marks, some of them old scars fading to pink, others still red and angry. Aside from trembling, she didn’t budge.

“Leave her be!” Bethany grabbed my shoulder and yanked me away with surprising strength. “She’s mine!”

“Excuse me?” I said, steadying my faltering shield.

“Not like that, duh!” she retorted.

Geoffrey the insufferable prat glided over, stopping a few feet away when Cody angled toward him. “With her ladyship’s blessing, I gave Bethany permission to recruit an acolyte,” he said, looking down his nose at me. “I assure you, she came most willingly.”

On the dais, Salome—or Heather, I should say—gave the tiniest of nods. She had a pretty face in that sort of soft, unformed way some teenaged girls do. At the moment, there were silent tears trickling down it.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “She’s a minor. She’s sixteen.”

“Do you think I didn’t ask?” Bethany glared at me. I had to say, she actually looked better than she had in years; less strung out, more pissed off. Maybe recruiting acolytes agreed with her. “She’s eighteen.”

I glanced at Heather. Her trembling had turned to shaking. “She didn’t show you ID, did she?”

“Miss Simkus, you can’t stay here,” Cody said in a gentle voice. “We’ve come to take you home.”

At that, she abandoned her pose with a gulping sob, turning to Bethany. “You promised! Don’t let them take me! I don’t want to go!”

Bethany looked uncertainly at Geoffrey.

Geoffrey looked uncertainly at Lady Eris.

Lady Eris smiled. “I don’t suppose you happen to have proof of the girl’s age with you, Officer?” she asked Cody. “A birth certificate, perhaps?”

He stared at her. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Not at all,” she said in a complacent tone. “The mantle of my protection has been extended to the young lady. I take these matters very seriously.”

I was pretty sure she was just yanking our chain because we’d ruined the evening’s entertainment, but the musicians in the corner laid down their instruments and rose to add their pale and silently menacing numbers to the assembled vampires. On the dais, the remaining members of the tableau broke character, straightening to watch the events unfold with glazed, haunted eyes, and in the case of John the Baptist, a curtain-draped platter around his neck like a collar.

“Hel takes her rule of order very seriously, too, my lady,” I murmured to Lady Eris. “She has banished others for defying it.”