“She is lonely. She’s pregnant and scared. Her father is probably trying to kill her, and neither of the men she married is offering her any support. Nor can they protect her from her own father. I don’t mind cutting her some slack. She isn’t the worst body I’ve guarded.”

“Who was the worst?”

“One of the state senators got on the bad side of the law and took some bribes. His accountant blew the whistle on him. His wife was convinced that state protection wasn’t good enough, so they called in the Guild. I was with them for seventy-two hours. The accountant and his wife fought the entire time. There were four of us guarding him, and by the end of the fourth day, Emmanuel, he was one of the mercs, big, cut Latino guy, really calm, walked away. He just got up and left. I asked him about it later and he said it was that or he would knock their heads together just so they would shut up . . .”

A familiar revulsion rolled over me, like an unclean oily residue laced with rotten fat. A vampire. Moving in from the right.

The only person who could possibly have a vampire in this castle full of shapeshifters would be Hugh. He either piloted it himself or had some Masters of the Dead stashed someplace, but somewhere a necromancer was pulling on a vampire’s strings, sending it steadily toward us, like a worm on a hook.

Trying to figure out if I could sense vampires. Nice try, Hugh.

“A good way to piss away your fee,” Derek said.

The vampire came closer, its mind a pinhead of hateful magic. The urge to reach out and crush its mind like a walnut was almost too much. It was close, too close. My hand itched. I wanted to get my sword and stab it.

I couldn’t leave it just sitting here. If by some miracle it wasn’t Hugh, it could get into the room and kill Desandra. She would give it a run for its money, but a vampire was nature’s closest equivalent to a killing machine. It had no thought, consciousness, or doubts. Like a huge predatory cockroach, it obeyed only one basic impulse: feed.

I lowered my voice. “It was mostly about self-preservation. Do you remember when you and I went to White Street? The time you got your leg ripped open?”

Derek nodded. “I remember.”

Here was hoping he remembered it was a vampire who tore his leg. “I think that’s how Emmanuel felt. Like something was closing on him and he just had to get out.”

Derek looked at me, his brown eyes focused.

“Another ten hours or so and he might have committed a homicide.” Come on, Derek. Vampire. Ten o’clock. In the wall.