Ravenous

ringed the room, stuck in tin cans and jars. The only concession to comfort was a collection of lumpy, overstuffed chairs and couches ringing the room. It was, in a word, awful.

And scary. Vampires were everywhere: sitting, standing, slouching against the unfinished walls. A quick count tallied at least thirty, all young-looking, all dressed for dancing at the club upstairs. The room hummed with a vibe both melancholy and wired, manic and depressive all at once—the essence of vamp. A few heads turned as they entered, eyes flaring with a catlike glow. Feeling suddenly tender and juicy, Holly wished she knew an invisibility spell.

At the head of the carpet, a female vampire rose from a faux-leather recliner. So this is Queen Omara. Holly tried to guess the queen's age or even her ancestry, but failed.

'My queen.' Alessandro dropped to one knee, bowing his head. 'I have brought our guest.'

Conversation ceased, the other vampires turning their pale faces to watch. The queen's glance flickered over Holly like a physical pressure. Omara wore a long, pleated tunic of gold-painted silk, her feet bare except for intricate henna tracery. As Alessandro rose, the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Her lips parted as she looked up into his face, and Holly saw the dainty tips of her fangs.

The queen turned to Holly. Lifting one hennaed forefinger, she placed it between Holly's eyes. 'Kneel when I approach you, human. I am Omara, the Queen of Night Predators.'

Her will suspended, Holly sank to the floor.

'Greetings, little witch,' she said, leaving the finger between Holly's eyes. 'I wonder, shall I be your friend or your foe? Your friend, I hope.'

Holly tried to speak, but her tongue was suddenly too dry.

'Forgive the accommodations, but a place so very hidden allows us to make our plans undisturbed. You catch us at an unfortunate time.' Omara withdrew her finger. 'I need your help. Together, perhaps we can defeat this demon.'

Omara bent over until their noses nearly touched. 'If I help you, will you help me?'

Alessandro stiffened, but the queen raised a hand to silence him. The room seemed empty, the other vampires still as paintings. Holly could hear the hiss as one of the cheap candles flared and sputtered, filling the air with a whiff of oily smoke.

Holly sucked in a reluctant breath. 'I know what happened to Elaine Carver. I know she died in your fight against Geneva. I'd still rather go down fighting than have her do to me what she did to Mac. I think we can do business.'

She felt the brush of Alessandro's fingers in her hair. She glanced up to see the cool look Omara gave him. The queen was possessive, but of what? Alessandro's affections? Or did she want a pet witch all to herself?

Alessandro's hand stayed on her head, marking his claim while she remained on her knees. She was grateful for his protection, but the whole subservience-and-domination thing was wearing thin. Her knees hurt from the hard floor.

Ignoring Alessandro, Omara brushed the hair from Holly's forehead. It was more than a physical touch. She could feel the queen's power inside her mind, flickering like the brush of an insect's wings.

'Interesting,' said Omara. 'Still, it must be done.'

'What?' Alessandro asked.

Omara studied Holly, her expression grave. 'Geneva, through her servant, has infected you with her touch. There is only one way to combat the Dark Larceny. Fight fire with fire.'

That didn't sound good. 'What do you mean?'

'You cannot eliminate the infection, but you can counter it with something equally strong.'

'How?'

'A vampire must claim you. Mark you.'

There was a babble of comment in the room.

'No!' cried Alessandro, silencing every other voice. 'I will not permit it.'

Holly's stomach clenched from her tailbone clear to her throat. Venom could addict, but a vampire's mark was stronger. It made the victim a vampire's slave. So not going there.

She cleared her throat awkwardly. 'Aren't there antipossession spells?'

Omara gave a slight shake of her head. 'No, my little witch. There is no one who knows more demon magic than I, and this is my solution.'

'There has to be another way,' Alessandro growled.

'The poison already eats at your soul, little witch. Do you really want to risk the wait? I can sense that your powers are already compromised. The natural immunities of a witch are present, but they cannot act at full strength.'

'What are you saying?' Holly breathed, her veins turning to lead. Kneeling made her feel small, like a child. Helpless. That was probably the point.

'A mortal would already be feeling the effects. I would say that, at most, you have a day or two of resistance left. No more. Then you will become hungry, like your policeman friend.'

'No!' Holly got to her feet, staggering in her haste.

Alessandro caught her. 'This is wrong! There must be other ways.'

'Would you lose her to the demons, Caravelli?' Omara snapped. 'She would have no choice then but to work against us.'

'But if we mark her, she loses her freedom of will.'

Holly turned in his arms, searching out his eyes. The spectators whispered, their words sibilant, like the last dry, dead leaves of November. She tried to push the heat of their interest from her mind. This wasn't a moment to be shy.

'Would I have more freedom if you took me?' she asked. 'More than the Dark Larceny?'

'Yes,' said Omara. 'And you could still fight the demons.'

'I won't do it,' said Alessandro.

Omara waved a hand. 'Then I will mark her with my own bite. That or she is executed. I can't let Geneva have a Carver witch as her weapon.'

Alessandro grabbed Holly's arm. 'She is mine!'

'Wait a minute!' The hair rose on Holly's nape. 'Wait an effing minute! I'm right here! I get a vote. No executions. No biting, either.'

Omara's eyes went hard as agate. 'It's your choice, little witch. Let us cure you, or die. We can save your personality, your soul. A demon's power destroys both.'

Holly's overriding instinct was to flee, but Alessandro's grip shackled her. A wise precaution. Running in a roomful of predators was less than smart.

'I'm going now,' she said. 'I feel fine. Mac was sick. I'm not.'

Omara shook her head. 'It is already working in you. I can smell it.'

'Then I want a cure. One with no puncture wounds.'

'There is no cure.' Omara reached for her.

Pure panic struck. Every ounce of magic in Holly's body exploded outward. White phosphorescence streaked through the room, popping like old-fashioned flashbulbs. Howls of outrage rose where shadows used to be, blinded vampires clawing at their eyes. Holly screamed, pain rending her flesh. She thought she smelled burning, but her senses reeled, skewed, a juddering nonsense of taste and smell.

Her lashing power fizzled, useless. There was light, but no force behind it.

This isn't right.

Her magic was completely scrambled.

Did the demon poison do this?

Sudden dizziness overtook Holly. She dropped to her hands and knees hard. For a moment she was immobile. Crawling away seemed a good option, but her limbs would not obey. An itching, creeping sensation trickled over her, as if her skin were unzipping in a hundred places.

Alessandro bent over her, his image wavering. He touched her cheek, and his hand seemed like ice. 'It's already started,' he said. 'I have to do something. I'm the lesser evil, I hope. I will give you what freedom I can.'

Before Holly could react, Alessandro's arm slid behind her waist, lifting Holly to a sitting position. She could