Crossroads

for home.

I can’t wait to get home, take a shower. Forget about the events of the last twenty-four hours.

I park on Mission Boulevard and hoof it into the cottage, using the al ey in back. I could have pul ed right into my garage. If there are any reporters stil around, they are keeping a very low profile. Once inside, I don’t check voice mail, don’t turn on my cel. I want only to get into a hot shower and clean clothes. Enjoy a cup of my own coffee on my own deck.

It’s what I want.

What I find when I step into the living room scuttles those plans.

He’s sitting on my couch, feet up on the coffee table, looking for al the world like he belongs.

He’s even helped himself to coffee and is reading my paper.

Son of a bitch.

It’s Chael.

CHAPTER 10

THE LAST TIME I SAW CHAEL, HEAD OF THE MIDDLE Eastern Vampire Tribe, it was exactly two months ago today.

He was dressed in Savile Row then. Today it’s Rodeo Drive.

He’s in dark slacks and a cream-colored polo shirt, leather loafers on stocking-less feet.

He looks up when I enter, radiates no concern that I’ve jumped into ful vampire mode. He lays the paper down, rises slowly, hands outstretched placatingly. He is slight of stature, dark-skinned, with sharp features and hard eyes. When he stands, we are eye to eye.

He waits for me to speak first, hands stil outstretched as if to show he has come unarmed.

We are vampire. We are never unarmed.

Teeth gritted, I open my thoughts. He speaks no English, but we can communicate the way of al vampires, telepathically. You have violated my privacy. How did you get in?

A shrug. It was not difficult. The glass door off your bedroom was unlocked.

Stupid of me. I often leave that slider open. Too high for a human to access but not a vampire.

Is an unlocked door considered an invitation to trespass in your country?

Chael lifts his palms in a gesture that admits he overstepped, but he offers no apology.

Why are you here?

Uninvited, he sits back down, picks up the newspaper and scans the front page. You have been busy. Interfering in mortal affairs again. One eyewitness says that you “flew”

over a counter and across the floor to shoot a man armed with a rifle. They are calling it a miracle. I call it an inexcusable display from one who is bent on keeping our existence a secret.

So, you read English now?

A deprecating shrug. I had someone translate the story for me.

I’l bet. Irritation pokes at me. I growl, The last time I checked, I didn’t answer to you. And what concern is this of yours? You are a long way from your home territory.

It is the concern of all vampire when their true nature has been exposed. What do you plan to do to rectify this violation?

I close down the conduit between us. What I plan to do is none of his business. I know faddish human nature. This wil pass as soon as something more interesting comes along to capture the imagination of the public. A basebal team wil reach the playoffs, a movie star wil be arrested for consorting with a fifteen-year-old. Mortal attention span is short.

You have no plan, do you? Chael shakes his head. As the Chosen One, you are proving once again how immature and ill prepared you are to lead a superior race.

This again. My temper rises as the real reason for this visit suddenly strikes me. He is not here because of what happened yesterday at the supermarket. He couldn’t have known about it until this morning.

He is here because of what happened last night in the desert. The rogue was his vampire.

Enough posturing, Chael. You care nothing for human concerns. You are here because I killed your whore.

A cold light flashes in his eyes, a hint of a smile touches his mouth. She was a whore. But a useful one. She had influence over the vampire community in our part of the world.

So why did you send her here? Why did you let her indulge her sick game?

He looks surprised at the question. To get your attention, of course. I knew of your history with your own whoremonger, the mortal, Max. I knew he would come to you when it became obvious a vampire was committing the killings. I knew you’d kill her in turn.

An elaborate charade. What if Max hadn’t called me or I had refused to help?

Then the killings would have gone on until you had no choice but to get involved. You and that highly developed sense of responsibility toward mortals. It isn’t in you to let bodies pile up in your own backyard.

So I met her and killed her. What was the point?

A miscalculation. I thought you’d at least hear her out before you killed her. I know you did not.

Shit. He was there. Why didn’t I pick up on that?

For some reason, Chael doesn’t unleash the beast in me. I sense he’s evil, but I don’t get the gut reaction to his presence that I have with others — both human and supernaturals. I don’t understand it. I wish it wasn’t so. I should have known that he was waiting inside for me before I opened the door. I should have known that he was out in the desert last night.

I didn’t.

Chael is silent, calm, waiting for me to process what he suspects but cannot read because he has no access to my thoughts. I study him the way he is studying me. He is not inclined to comment or offer an explanation. Perhaps he doesn’t understand, either, but he must know he has the advantage. Which is very likely why he took the chance of coming into my home.

My jaw clenches in frustration. What do you want?

Chael has placed the newspaper back on the coffee table, folding it neatly, squaring the corners so that it lies against the table’s edge. He looks up at me, a real smile lighting his face and softening the hard glint in black eyes. For the first time, I glimpse the human twenty-year-old he must have been when he was turned.

I am here to solve your problems, Anna Strong. I am here to grant your heart’s desire.

A snort of bitter amusement greets his proposal. Oh? And you presume to know my heart’s desire?

I knew it the moment I first learned of you. And everything you have done since the beginning confirms my belief. I know how you can achieve your dream. I know how you can unburden yourself of all the problems in your life.

He gets to his feet, begins pacing as he talks. That incident with your business partner? I can make it so his memory is truly wiped clean. You and he can once again become the friends you were, sharing more than the shallow relationship you have now. Detective Harris will find you much less interesting when he realizes there is nothing special about you. He will move on to more important cases; Williams will finally be put to rest. You may even wish to pursue a relationship with Max. He still cares for you in spite of his bravado. All will be as it was before the gift was thrust upon you. The gift you yourself have said you neither sought nor wanted.

How do you propose to work this miracle?

There is a way. I can show you.

And if I refuse your offer?