Max splashed some scotch into two glasses, and sliding one across the desk, he kept the other in his hand as he sat down. “You know, I thought I had let it go. Actually, no, that’s not right. I could never let go of what you and that bastard did to her. It’s always there, festering in the crevices of my mind. Every time I look at her, every time I see how far she’s come, every time I see her smile or the kindness in her eyes, yet you almost destroyed her…and that doesn’t bother you. Does it?”

“Blah. Blah. Blah.” Simeon flicked his gaze upward. “She’s alive, isn’t she?”

Even though his true self was a hairsbreadth away from making an appearance, Max refused to let it show. “Yes,” he said, studying Simeon. “But someone else died tonight, and that’s what I want to talk to you about.”

It was all Max could do not to smile when he saw Simeon’s hand tremble ever so slightly when the man reached for his drink.

“Someone else?” Simeon said, bringing the glass to his lips. “Who?”

“Sorry I’m late,” Angelique said, coming into the room. “I raided your wine cellar and took Cathleen a bottle of Cabernet. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, and you’re actually just in time,” Max said, standing. “Would you like a drink?”

“I’ll get it,” Angelique said with a flick of her wrist. “Sit. Don’t let me interrupt.”

“Angel, this conversation isn’t for you,” Simeon said, watching her walk across the room. “Get your drink and leave.”

“Sorry, no can do,” Angelique said without turning around. “Max wants me here.”

Blood rushed to Simeon’s face, and he leapt to his feet. “If you want to live to hunt another night, you’ll go back to your fucking room right now. You belong to me, Angelique, and don’t you ever forget it.”

“That’s not the case, and you know it,” Max said, motioning for Simeon to return to his chair. “She doesn’t belong to you. The originals ruled centuries ago that members of the covens were free to come and go as they please, and Angelique chose to…well, she sort of chose to do both.” Max held up his finger. “But we’ll get back to that in a minute. First, how about you fill me in on that phone call you received earlier tonight? It seemed to put a damper on your mood.”

“The…the phone call? Is that what this is about?” Simeon said, screwing up his face. “Jesus Christ, Max, it was the caretaker of my home in Montreal. There was a problem with the plumbing, and he called to assure me he’d have it fixed before I arrived.”

“So you’re saying it wasn’t Napoleon who called you?”