“Yes. The, ah, enemy has been trying to get Amelia and Tray to introduce him to me. He doesn’t seem to realize I would recognize him, or maybe he’s very good at pretending. He’s supposed to be on the anti-human side, but he’s half human. I don’t understand his behavior.”

“I see,” Eric said after an appreciable pause. “So protection is necessary.”

“Yes.”

“And you ask this as . . . ?”

If he’d been with his own underlings, he’d have told them to leave so he could talk to me frankly. Since he hadn’t done that, he was probably with one of the Nevada vamps: Sandy Sechrest, Victor Madden, or Felipe de Castro himself, though that was unlikely. Castro’s far more lucrative business ventures in Nevada required his presence most of the time. I finally realized Eric was trying to find out if I was asking as his bed buddy and “wife,” or as someone he owed big-time.

“I ask this as someone who saved Felipe de Castro’s life,” I said.

“I’ll present this petition to Victor, since he’s here at the bar,” Eric said smoothly. “I’ll get back to you this night.”

“Great.” Mindful of vamps’ extreme hearing, I added, “I appreciate that, Eric,” as if we were friendly acquaintances.

Mentally dodging the question of what we actually were to each other, I tucked away the cell phone and went into work, hustling because I was a couple of minutes late. Now that I’d talked to Eric, I felt much more optimistic about my chances of survival.

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

I kept my mental ears open that night, so it was a hard evening for me. After years of practice and some help from Bill, I’d learned to block out most of the thoughts of the humans around me. But tonight was just like the bad old days, when I’d smiled all the time to cover the confusion in my head caused by the constant bombardment of mental mutterings.

When I walked past the table where Bud Dearborn and his ancient crony Sid Matt Lancaster were having chicken baskets and beers, I heard, Crystal’s no great loss, but no one gets crucified in Renard Parish. . . . We gotta solve that case, and Got me some genuine werewolves for clients. I wish Elva Deane had lived to see this; she woulda loved it. But mostly Sid Matt was thinking about his hemorrhoids and his spreading cancer.

Oh, gosh, I hadn’t known. My next pass by his table, I patted the venerable lawyer on the shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything,” I said, and met his turtlelike stare with a blank face. He could take it any way he chose, as long as he knew I was willing to help.