“What happens at the party?”

“A lot of people die.” Clarence removed Ziggy’s empty cereal bowl and placed it on the rolling service cart. “All except two of the pets will go on the ingredients list. The two Cyrus leaves off are the guests of honor.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Ziggy interjected, his voice hoarse.

“Unless you’ve been his guest of honor before,” I pointed out, and his expression grew dark. “Clarence, how does Cyrus pick these guests?”

“I don’t know. He just gives me the list. I’m not invited to the party. But I do know that only one of them comes back. He turns them. Sometimes his daddy does it if he’s feeling up to it. I’m not sure what happens to the other one. If I were you, I’d get your young man out of here before then.”

I had plenty of questions, but Clarence had apparently reached his talking quota for the day. I’d have to get my answers from Cyrus.

Cyrus had either forgotten to lock the door or hadn’t expected anyone to interrupt him, but when I burst into his study, the look on his face was murderous.

“You weren’t invited into this room,” he snarled, glancing sharply up from the book in his lap.

I took in his uncharacteristically casual appearance, noting that he wore a black eye patch. “Where was that yesterday when you needed it?”

With an annoyed sigh, he closed the book. “For your information, I’m wearing this because I didn’t take an eye from your friend, and I simply don’t have the energy to seek a replacement tonight.”

“Too tired for me?” Alternating stabs of disappointment and relief sliced through me.

“No, but I’m rapidly becoming tired of you. Is there any reason for this visit?” He folded his hands across his lap.

“Yeah. I’ve got a question.”

“Well, are you sure you wish to ask, or would you prefer to sneak around in my mind while I sleep tomorrow?”

“Are you still upset over that?” I walked slowly toward him. Taking the book from him, I insinuated myself into its place. “If I had known it would make you so mad, I wouldn’t have done it.”

“Why do I have difficulty believing that?” But he smiled, anyway, pulling me against his chest. His skin seemed colder than usual.

I sat up. “You haven’t fed.”

Only then did I notice the dark circle beneath his visible eye, and the tired, pinched look of his face. He was weak, and it alarmed me.

With a shrug that came off more theatrical than carefree, he urged me to lean back against him. “I wasn’t in the mood.”

“Was it because of me?” The question came out before my mind could consent.

It seemed to take him off guard, as well. Maybe if he’d been feeling better he would have lied to me, but he nodded wearily. “There are things in my past that…put me off my appetite when I dwell on them.”