It had been a win for both of us, with Marco’s six-foot-five-inches of studliness striding around, giving orders that my young initiates cheerfully ignored. They knew that, despite his size, he was a softy underneath, at least where they were concerned. Marco, who had lost his own daughter centuries ago, now had dozens of them, who tended to flock after him like goslings after an oversized mother goose.

You haven’t lived until you’ve seen a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound vamp, with inch long fangs when fully extended and glowing, amber eyes, sitting quietly while a tiny tot carefully painted his fingernails.

I grinned sloppily at the handsome Italian features and saw him scowl. “I’m too old for this,” Marco muttered, making me laugh. “Are you drunk?” he demanded.

“I wish.”

Marco muttered something else I didn’t catch, and tucked me under the bunch of boulders masquerading as his arm.

But that didn’t please someone.

“None of that,” a voice said sharply. “Give her here.”

The booming voice belonged to my new Eugenie, although technically her title wasn’t governess, because at twenty-four, you don’t get one of those. At least, not officially. But Hilde didn’t seem to know that.

In fairness, the robust older women with the shelf-like bosom, which was currently wrapped in a blue bathrobe, and the head of silver white hair done up in curlers, had been left with the unenviable task of trying to wrangle my out-of-control court. That included shepherding a brand new, largely clueless Pythia, developing training programs for my growing number of initiates, and somehow turning a Vegas penthouse into a war-time base of operations. She’d managed admirably, like she did everything else, so I supposed she could be forgiven for getting a little strident sometimes.

And for grabbing my arm and trying to pull me away from Marco, who was now wading into the fray with me still tucked securely under his bicep.

Since said bicep was as the size of a baby’s head, I wasn’t going anywhere. Which was bad, because pretty soon, Hilde would be using something a lot more powerful than old lady strength. Only, for once, that didn’t happen.

“Damn it, you walking mountain!” Hilde snapped. “I said put. Her. Down!”

“In a minute—”

“We don’t have a minute! She’s phasing!”

The unfamiliar word must have gotten Marco’s attention, because the next second, my butt hit the floor again. Repeatedly. I stuttered through a half dozen smack downs, like a glitching video game character, and kind of felt like one, too. Before the craziness stopped and I fell back against the carpet.