“They aren’t pleased, but as always, majority rules. And since Hector now believes as we do, that Napoleon’s a threat, we have the majority.”

Bennett leapt to her feet. “Are you saying that I can kill—”

“You cannot kill Napoleon,” Max said, raising his voice slightly. “You can, however, take whatever means you deem necessary to safeguard your home and your privacy, including protecting the mortals who live in Back Bay and the bordering areas. If Napoleon’s gaggle of goose-stepping morons come hunting, do with them what you will.”

“I can’t believe this. I-I’m shocked,” Bennett said, dropping back into her chair. “What did you say to them, Max? How did you change their minds?”

The light blinking on Max’s desk phone came to his rescue. “It appears our dinner is ready,” he said, getting to his feet. “And I have a marvelous bottle of Cabernet waiting for you, along with a scrumptiously rare prime rib. Shall we?”

“Sounds delicious. I’m starving,” Bennett said, standing up.

“Yes, well, you have worked up an appetite this past week, haven’t you,” Max said, chuckling as he motioned toward the door. “After you.”

***

Ivan lumbered down the long corridor leading to Napoleon’s office, his eyes bouncing from one sentry to the next in the hall. They seemed a little paler than normal, and he made a mental note to increase their daily stipend of blood. They were some of his finest men, well deserved of an extra slurp or two.

Upon reaching the door, Ivan rapped once before entering, and then he came to an abrupt stop. Scattered around the room was what remained of the sofas, chairs, and tables, and even Napoleon’s weighty desk hadn’t survived his fury. Split in two, half had ended up against the wall to Ivan’s left, and the other half was in pieces in the far right corner of the room. Next to it was the credenza that held Napoleon’s assortment of liquor, and escaping unscathed, Napoleon was now standing in front of it, pouring himself a drink.

“Uh…you wanted to see me, boss?”

Napoleon slowly turned to face Ivan. “Yes,” he said, a sneer smearing its way across his face. “I want you to kill Bennett Archer.”

Ivan’s eyebrows drew together, making it look like he had a long, fuzzy caterpillar crawling across his forehead. “But you said we couldn’t kill her because of our plans.”

“Well, plans change,” Napoleon bellowed, throwing his crystal tumbler across the room. “I don’t know what that fucking cunt said, but the council has sided with her, so I want that bitch dead as soon as possible. Do you hear me? I want that bitch dead!”

“Um…o-okay,” Ivan said, taking a half-step toward the door. “I’ll go get a few of the men, and we’ll—”