Ravenous

Alessandro straightened, glad she was finally ready to talk. 'Yes?'

She ducked her head, licking her lips. It was a rare show of nerves. 'I believe one of my old enemies has returned. I was not surprised when the Fairview police contacted me.'

'Why not?'

'My home in Seattle was ransacked. Nothing was taken: not my money nor my business records. Not even my jewelry.'

'Your books and implements of magic?' Alessandro asked anxiously. Omara possessed powerful, dangerous rarities any sorcerer would covet for his collection.

Her eyes went wide for a moment, perhaps envisioning that disaster. 'No, those are safe.'

'A blackmailer, perhaps? Someone looking for information?'

'No demands were made.' Omara looked away. 'It was odd, disturbing. Then the Fairview police called, wanting my advice, so I came. Perhaps the incidents were unrelated, but I doubt it. I believe the break-in was to put me on notice. Someone desires a fight. They have picked Fairview as their battleground.'

'Was it wise to come?'

Her lip curled. 'I do not run.'

'But why Fairview? Since I've been here it's been a quiet city, at least until these murders.'

'That's because you, my champion, are here. I haven't needed to worry about this part of my domain. You keep the law here with a strong and just hand. If something went amiss, you are my natural successor.'

Alessandro allowed himself a small, sardonic smile. 'You know I have no ambition to be king, and I have never learned the sorcery necessary to hold the throne.'

'If you choose, you could learn. You have more than enough ability and natural power.'

Alessandro wasn't sure if this was the truth or an attempt to secure his interest. It didn't matter. 'If our enemies bring us together in Fairview, they face a double threat.'

Omara shook her head. 'Still, it puts us both within one killing stroke. There is danger as well as advantage to you and I being in the same city.'

'But who is our adversary?'

'If the token you found is a clue, a very old, very powerful enemy. Someone willing to kill to put us in jeopardy with the human police.'

Alessandro tried to swallow, but his throat was suddenly devoid of moisture. 'You told me once that you foresaw trouble in this place. I began to doubt anything would ever happen here, but you were right.'

'I wish that were not so.'

He frowned. 'There may be more than meets the eye to this adversary. In the last few weeks a magic user has been using summoning spells.'

'What?' Omara was all attention.

Perhaps his client hadn't been the target of the spell caster's art, but collateral damage. Such things happened. 'And the latest victim was concealed with a look-away spell. Who could work that kind of magic? You say you know the source of this trouble. Who could it be?'

'It must be an old enemy. But which? I could fill a telephone book.' Omara raised her eyes to the ceiling, as if to see the names written there. 'To begin with, there is every other king or queen who might want my territory, and every other clan leader who covets a crown. The leaders of most other species. Then there are those special few: Morlok. Aloysius. Geneva. Michael. Gervaise. Callandra.'

'Demons.' He had gone cold. He did not like to admit fear, but there it was.

'Yes, the demons. I've fought one here before.'

'But we're searching for a vampire. There was the token.'

Alessandro paused. He didn't like the look in Omara's eyes, but he couldn't tell what she was thinking.

She smiled. 'Indeed, there was the token. You're right. We must look to our own kind.'

The drinks came. Omara brought the bright blue martini to her lips, tasting it with just a dart of her pink tongue. 'You'll need the help of that witch friend of yours. The Carver girl. Pretty thing, I'm told.'

Alessandro started at her words, his wine sloshing to the lip of the glass. 'You know of her?' Pretty thing. Yes, all long, walnut-dark hair and emerald eyes. Omara didn't like rivals.

'Of course. She's a Carver witch in my own territory. Rumor has it she can squash a poltergeist in five minutes flat.' The queen's eyes asked for confirmation.

'That's true. And she defeated a rogue house tonight. An exceptionally bad one.'

'You'll need her magic,' Omara said softly. 'Get her to raise one of the murdered girls. A little necromancy will go a long way toward identifying my rival. The dead could at least describe the attacker.'

Alessandro pushed the wine away, recoiling from the memory of Holly writhing on the floor in pain. Necromancy demanded a huge amount of magic and would be even more excruciating for her. 'Is there no one else we can bring in to help? I'm not sure she can do this.'

'Of course she can. She's a Carver witch. Their specialty for generations has been calling the dead.'

'There is something wrong with her magic. Necromancy would probably kill her.'

'Would she survive long enough for the magic to work?'

Alessandro narrowed his eyes, growing even more uneasy. 'I don't know.'

'I think she might. And still you hesitate. What is a witch's death compared to the defeat of my adversary?' A look passed over Omara's face that he had never seen before: a flicker of… terror? 'I led the vampires out of the darkness and into this century. I am the one who talks to judges and politicians, lobbying for our rights. I deserve to survive.'

He started to interrupt, but her icy gaze froze his words. 'If this murderer keeps killing, the terrified citizens of Fairview will turn on the entire supernatural community. They could massacre us without a flicker of remorse. Think of that when you start to feel heroic and protective of some girl with the significance of a gnat.'

She leaned across the table, putting her face close to his. They must have looked like a courting couple working up to a kiss. He could feel the slow exhalation of her breath. 'Don't disobey me, Alessandro. I don't want to lose you. You're my champion, my questing knight. Harden your heart for my sake. Love me, Alessandro.'

Without Omara, there was no one, no clan, no kin. Without his queen he was utterly without a foothold among his kind. Eternity was a long time to be alone.

She wrapped her hand around his, squeezing hard. 'A rogue vampire—or demon—will feed and feed until all around him are destroyed. I must know who is doing this.'

'Of course,' he said, but his mind was fumbling for alternatives. I will find another way to solve this. What she asks is unthinkable. Even if he never touched Holly, never tasted her, she was his partner—she didn't belong to anyone else, not even his queen. Alessandro protected what was his.

Omara took another sip of her drink, a faint tremor in her fingers. 'I know you will do the right thing. You always do. It's part of your old-world charm.'

He bit his tongue, but any unwise statements were preempted by someone approaching the table. Pierce.

'A moment, my queen.' Pierce bowed low, his waving blond hair burnished by the candlelight. He still had the grace of an Elizabethan courtier, but a feral streak hid behind those fine manners.

'How may I help you?' Omara asked formally, but there was eager heat in her glance. Suspicion flittered through Alessandro's thoughts. Did they know each other better than either of them let on?

Pierce straightened, a smile lighting his even features. Wearing an open-necked shirt and gray wool jacket, he gave off an air of monied ease. 'I come on behalf of Clan Albion to beg the favor of offering refreshment.'

Pierce held up his right hand with a graceful flourish, and a human stepped forward from the shadows. The moment was dramatic, just the sort of show Omara liked. The human was also very much to her taste, on the brink of full manhood, a light blue sweater straining across the muscles of his chest.

'It pleases me that you remember the service owed to your queen.' Though her words were for Pierce, her eyes were on Alessandro. 'My favor shall always go to those who serve me best.'

Alessandro returned a false smile, mentally peeling the skin from Pierce's flesh.

Turning to the young human, Omara gestured for him to kneel. She stroked his cheek, caressing the straight fall of his chestnut hair, and then took his right arm, pushing the sleeve up the sweater up past his elbow. The