I touched my belt, where the cluviel dor made a hard impression on my stomach. Could I wish Miriam back alive? I wondered if that would satisfy the requirement that the wish be for someone I loved. I was very fond of Pam, but wouldn’t that be too indirect?

I felt like I had a bomb strapped to me.

I heard the shimmery sound of the gong. Eric had installed one in the bar, and the bartender rang it fifteen minutes before closing. I didn’t even know who’d taken over the bartending duties since Felicia had been killed by Alexei. Maybe I hadn’t been interested enough in Eric’s business lately. On the other hand, he himself had been abstracted from his normal absorption in his little kingdom by Victor’s predations. I realized that lack of conversation about ordinary things was one of our problems. I hoped we’d get to correct it.

I got up and went down the hall to the main area of the bar. I couldn’t stand sitting in Eric’s office anymore, not with Pam suffering the way she was.

I spotted Colton and Audrina dancing on the tiny floor, arms around each other. Immanuel was sitting at the bar, and I climbed onto the stool next to him. The bartender came to stand across from me. He was a brawny fellow with ringlets cascading down his back, total eye candy. A vampire, of course.

“What can I get you, wife of my sheriff?” he asked ceremoniously.

“You can get me a tonic and lime, please. Sorry I haven’t had a chance to meet you before. What’s your name?”

“Jock,” he said, as if daring me to make a joke. I wouldn’t dream of it.

“When did you start work, Jock?”

“I came from Reno when the last bartender died,” he said. “I worked for Victor there.”

I wondered which way Jock would jump tonight. Interesting to see.

I didn’t know Immanuel well—in fact, I barely knew him. But I patted his shoulder and asked him if I could buy him a drink.

He turned and gave my hair a long look, finally nodding his approval. “Sure,” he said. “I’d like another beer.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, after I’d asked Jock to bring Immanuel a beer. I wondered where Miriam’s body was now; at the undertaker’s, I assumed.

“Appreciated,” he replied. After a moment, he said, “Pam was going to do it tonight, without permission. Turn Miriam, that is. But Mir just . . . breathed out one last time, and then she was gone.”

“Your mom and dad . . . ?”

He shook his head. “It was just us.”

There was really nothing else to say about that.

“Maybe you should go home?” I suggested. He didn’t look like much of a fighter to me.

“I don’t think so,” he said.