heavier than me—but he did stop making that noise. “That’s better. Yes, I’m fine.”

“You need to come out of there.” Shadows in the door—one of them had to be Benjamin.

The rest were probably his crew. The djamphir who’d been stuck with the task of “guarding” me.

Great.

Graves leaned back against the doorjamb. His eyes were incandescent. He lifted a cigarette to his

lips, flicked the lighter, and inhaled.

Oh, goddammit. I sighed, tried not to roll my eyes.

“That stinks.” Benjamin took the bait. “Do you mind?”

Graves shrugged. Twin curls of smoke slid free of his nostrils. His silver skull-and-crossbones earring glinted in the dimness. “Nope. I sure don’t.”

Ash bumped against me. My feet were numb. Now came trying to get him up on the bed and not

listening to the whining little noises he made when I closed the door and locked it so he couldn’t escape back to his master.

To Sergej. Even thinking the name sent a cold shiver through me. Some of the nightmares I was

having lately—when I could sleep, that is—were of a slight teenage boy with coppery skin and honey-dark hair, smiling as something ageless and foul shone out of his black, black eyes.

I’d only seen Sergej once. But that was enough.

Graves exhaled more cigarette smoke. “Thanks for asking, though.”

“Can you two have your pissing match some other time?” I kept hold of Ash. It wouldn’t do much

good if he decided to go seriously buggy, but if I kept my hand on him he kept calm.

I didn’t know what to think about that. I was stuck with less speed and strength and stamina because

I hadn’t “bloomed” yet. I wasn’t a serious match for an upset werwulf without a gun and some running room—and even then it was a pretty chancy proposition.

Especially against a werwulf who had killed three or four suckers at a time.

But he never went ballistic as long as I was holding onto him. I still wasn’t sure if I was brave or really stupid, getting close enough to him to find out. And I’d escaped him before, hadn’t I? Shot him

and boogied. Right after I’d killed a burning dog the size of a small pony.

Where had that girl gone—the badass Dru? Right now I was feeling a little less than awesomely

tough. And more than a little confused.

“What’s he doing, Dru?” Benjamin’s tone was taut. I could almost see him outside the door, leaning

forward, the spike of an emo-boy haircut swooping over his chiseled face. Some of the djamphir are

so pretty it almost hurts to look at them. And it was hard to look without feeling rumpled and messy

in comparison.