Deadtown

doing now,” she mused. “Do you think he’s ripping out Baldwin’s jugular?”

“I’m sure he wants to. But you know Kane, always trying to prove that the monsters are as good as the humans. Better, even. They’re probably shaking hands and thumping each other on the back, saying they’ll have their people get in touch.” Even if that’s precisely what they were doing, Kane was furious right now—no doubt about that. In any debate, he believed it was essential to have the last word. And Brenda had cut him off before he could rebut Baldwin.

“Who do you think won?” Juliet asked. “I gave them one point each.”

“Baldwin turned the whole thing into a campaign speech. That guy’s smart. He knows an opportunity when he sees it. I bet he gained himself some votes today.” I glanced at Juliet, who covered her mouth as she yawned. “You don’t seem too worried about what will happen to us if he wins.”

“Another purge against the monsters?” She yawned again, as if the subject bored her. “What’s to worry about? I’m one of those vampires who always lands on her feet, like a cat.” She stretched, looking very much like a cat, and put the popcorn bowl on the coffee table. “That’s it for me. I’m going to resume the shroud.”

She paused in the doorway, silhouetted against the hall light. “Why didn’t Oprah’s people call me? I looked damn good sitting at the bar.”

“Next time she does a show on vampire beauty tips, I’m sure you’ll be first on the guest list.”

After Juliet left to crawl into her coffin, I stretched out on the sofa, hugging the popcorn bowl for solace. I munched popcorn while CNN started the tape yet again. Then I picked up the remote and turned off the TV. I couldn’t face seeing that disaster another time. Poor Kane. His political ad had turned into a public relations nightmare. Baldwin had milked the sensationalism for all it was worth, and he’d gotten in the last word. All things considered, Kane must be in a very bad mood.

So how was I going to tell him I was still on the job for Frank Lucado?

16

STEAM BILLOWED OFF THE WATER THAT POURED INTO THE tub as I measured out a capful of bubble bath. In the past ten hours, I’d stared down a Hellion, gotten involved in an interspecies bar brawl, argued with my sort-of boyfriend, taken on his archenemy as a client, and become the top story on CNN. And the day was just getting started. Right now, all I wanted was a nice, long, fragrant soak and an even longer nap. Then I’d be able to face things.

I’d called Daniel at the police station, but he wasn’t in yet. I left a voice mail to let him know I’d returned his call. As I hung up, I’d flipped over Daniel’s card and stared at his home number. “Please don’t hesitate to call me,” he’d said. My heart did a little tap dance. Then I stuck the card in the back pocket of my jeans. Forget it. I wasn’t going to call the guy at home unless I had a good reason. Returning a call wasn’t it.

I left my clothes in a pile on the floor and eased into the tub. The water embraced my limbs. It was a little too hot, reddening my skin as I lowered myself, inch by inch, into the water. Ahhh. Just the way I like it.

Submerged under a mountain range of bubbles, I laid my head back and closed my eyes. Warm scents of lavender and vanilla filled my nostrils, and I sighed blissfully. The bath was an oasis, a place where I could finally unwind. I needed this.

The door banged open, making me jump a mile and blowing wisps of bubbles across the tub. There stood Kane, scowling. He looked like he’d come straight from the studio; he still wore his black interview suit, although he’d loosened the tie. The look on his face made me wonder whether giving him a key to my apartment had been such a great idea. “Why don’t you answer your damn phone?” he growled.

It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve spent the night at someone’s apartment (well, just two so far)— when you’re about to have an argument with that someone, you definitely don’t want to be lying bare-assed naked in a bubble-filled tub.

“Let me finish washing and put on my bathrobe. I’ll be out in five minutes.”

He checked his watch. “No time. If you’d picked up your phone instead of making me traipse all the way over here to talk to you—” He shook his head, too annoyed to finish the sentence. “Besides, this won’t take five minutes. I just need to confirm the times for your interviews.” He pulled out his BlackBerry and jabbed at the keys.

“I’m not doing any interviews.”

He raised his eyes from the BlackBerry to look at me, then huffed an exasperated sigh. “This is no time to be camera-shy, Vicky. You’re the hero of the day, the PA who stepped in to rescue humans. You’re the one who can really swing public opinion to our side. We should’ve had you on already.”

Have you ever had a fully dressed werewolf standing over you while you’re wet and naked and you know that what you’re about to say is going to make him really, really mad? I don’t recommend it. I pushed around some bubbles to make sure I was decent, then took a deep breath.

“I am not going on television, Kane. Period. End of discussion.”

He stared at me so hard I wondered whether werewolves had X-ray vision. Through bubbles, anyway. “I know you always say that you’re not interested in politics. I don’t understand that, but all right. It’s your choice. But this isn’t about you, Vicky. It isn’t even about the PAs in Massachusetts. Every single state in the country is watching us right now. What happens next could put human-PA relations on an equal footing—or declare open season on PAs. Literally.”

“You’re being melodramatic. By tomorrow there’ll be some other big story and the media will run after it like blood-hounds.” Kane frowned. Maybe the bloodhound analogy wasn’t the best choice to use with a werewolf. “The point is, this will all blow over in a day or two. People forget old news as fast as they toss out yesterday’s newspaper.”

“You’re wrong. This story has national implications. International, even.” The United States was one of three countries in the world that had any form of PA rights, the other two being Great Britain and Italy. And Massachusetts was the most accepting state in America; or it had been, until Baldwin’s campaign gained steam. “If we handle this correctly, PAs will be able to get passports, travel openly—even live openly—anywhere in the world.”

“ ‘If we handle this correctly.’ By we, you mean me. And I’m not going to do it.” Maybe I could get away with pure stubbornness as my excuse. Kane spent enough time complaining about that facet of my personality.

But he changed tack. “This could be great for your business, you know. Think of all the publicity. We can make sure that they introduce you as a professional demon exterminator. You’ll have clients coming out of the woodwork.”

“The demons are the things that come out of the woodwork.” He didn’t smile. “It’s becauseof business that I won’t do it.”

He didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow, so I continued. “I’m on a long-term assignment. It’s good money, and it requires some . . .” What was the word I wanted? Got it: “Some discretion. It would cause problems for my client if I started doing these interviews you want me to do.”

“Why?”

The water was getting cold. Goose bumps rose along my skin, and I wanted more than ever to get out of the damn tub. I’d had enough of this argument. I wasn’t going to play politics for Kane, and I wasn’t going to stay trapped in this cooling, dirty water. I also wasn’t going to sugarcoat anything for him. So I just said it: “Because the client is Frank Lucado, okay?”

Kane closed his eyes and gave his head a shake, as though he was the one with water in his ears. “But you finished your job for that blood bag. If you’re worried he’ll stop payment on his check—”

“I killed his Harpies, yeah, but I left the guy in a bad position. Thanks to me, he’s got a Hellion stalking him and no bodyguard.” My mind flashed on the image of Wendy, Lucado’s big, scary bodyguard, passed out on the floor. “I agreed to be his nighttime bodyguard.”

“You’re going to be Frank Lucado’s bodyguard.” Kane repeated the words slowly, like he had to say them out loud to understand them. “Let me get this straight. I tell you I wouldn’t mind seeing the guy dead, and the first thing you do is run over there and offer to protect him.” He turned and slapped the wall, hard; the water in the bathtub rippled. “Of all the rich assholes in Boston, why pick him? Why not Baldwin himself?”

I tried to defuse the situation with a lame joke. “Lucado made me an offer I couldn’t refuse?”

Kane didn’t crack a smile. He didn’t even bother to roll his eyes. Instead, he focused on me with a laser-beam gaze. Now it wasn’t the bath water giving me goose bumps; his stare was frightening. “You did it to hurt me,” he