Thomas grimaced. "She's in Aruba is how she is. Which is where I was until one of pappa Raith's goons dragged me back up here."

"What did you two decide on for the duel?"

Thomas shook his head. "Can't tell you. Shiro is supposed to do that. I mean, technically I'm at war with you."

I grimaced and stared after Ortega's vanished car. "Yeah."

Thomas was quiet for a second, then said, "He means to kill you."

"I know."

"He's dangerous, Harry. Smart. My father is afraid of him."

"I could like him," I said. "It's sort of refreshing to have someone trying to kill me right to my face, instead of throwing me a bunch of curveballs and shooting me in the back. It's almost nice to have a fair fight."

"Sure. Theoretically."

"Theoretically?"

Thomas shrugged. "Ortega's been alive for about six hundred years. It isn't something you do by playing nice."

"From what I've heard, the Archive will object to any monkey business."

"It's only cheating if he gets caught."

I frowned at him and said, "Are you saying someone is planning to avoid getting caught?"

Thomas put his hands in his jacket pockets. "I'm not saying anything. I wouldn't mind seeing you kick his ass, but I'm sure as hell not going to do something that would attract attention to me."

"You intend to participate without being involved. That's clever."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "I won't throw a banana peel under you. But don't expect any help from me, either. I'm just making sure it's a fair fight and then I'm back at my beach house." He drew car keys from his pocket and headed for the parking lot. "Good luck."

"Thomas," I said to his back. "Thanks for the heads-up."

He paused.

I asked, "Why do it?"

The vampire glanced over his shoulder at me and smiled. "Life would be unbearably dull if we had answers to all our questions." He walked out to a white sports car and slipped into it. A second later, loud, screaming metal music started from the car's stereo, the engine roared, and Thomas drove off.

I checked my watch. Ten more minutes until Susan arrived. Shiro emerged from McAnnally's and put on his glasses. Once he spotted me, he walked over and took the glasses off again. "Ortega refused to cancel the duel?"

"He made me an offer I couldn't excuse," I said.

Shiro grunted. "Duel is wills. Tomorrow, just after sundown. Wrigley Field."

"A stadium? Why don't we put it on pay-per-view while we're at it." I glowered at the street and checked my watch again. "I'm meeting someone in a minute. I'll give you the keys to my car. I can pick it up from Michael's tomorrow."

"No need," Shiro said. "Mac called me a cab."

"Okay." I pocketed my keys.

Shiro stood quietly for a moment, lips pursed thoughtfully, before he said, "Ortega means to kill you."