Proofread by FernieLyn

This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere.

The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author.

This story is based in an alternative universe. In this world, the creatures which we now believe to be legends have walked alongside man for the duration of our existence.

The following story contains, in one chapter or another, lesbian, homosexual, heterosexual, anal, group, sci-fi/fantasy, non-human, and BDSM sexual activity.

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"Well, that went well," Shamira muttered as the crowd continued to yell and scream at each other at the tops of their lungs. Five minutes ago, a magically broadcast meeting arranged by the Tribunal, a council of magical creatures, had just announced to the mystical community that they would indeed be implementing a plan to make their presence known to the human world. Shamira thought things were going well, based primarily on the fact that no one had actually killed anyone else yet. Yet.

Every submissive in Shane's house had been paired up with a dominant for the meeting, and they were all in their best BDSM uniforms. Shamira had been paired with Sebastian and they both looked quite fetching. Sebastian wore white leather breeches and a matching vest, both of which showed off his drool-worthy underwear-model's body.

Much to her surprise, Shamira was getting a lot of attention as well. She was wearing a leather thong underneath a black spandex, fishnet body stocking. She also wore a spandex mask that completely covered her face except for her mouth. The area over the eyes was thin enough that she could see out but no one could see in.

Shane had explained that he didn't want Lacroix, his rival from Savannah, to see her face since she was actively investigating him now. His acquisition of Sebastian's services were well known enough that there was no point in trying to disguise him. For one of the few times in recent days, Shamira and Shane had been in agreement.

Shamira had been ogled and propositioned constantly since guests started arriving. She had kept her head bowed and let Sebastian deal with them. He pawed her frequently and publicly, but would no allow anyone else to touch her. She didn't mind, which surprised her. It helped that Sebastian made her feel sexy when he showed her off, pointing out the chiseled body she had worked so hard on when she was alive.

Still, Shamira would rather have been paired with Clara, but her lover as well as Lillian and the faerie Coramen were busy in the casting room keeping the wards up, the far-speak spell going, and generally keeping an eye on things.

"Keep quiet, my pet," Sebastian muttered, his hand resting on her ass and then squeezing. "I'd hate to have to punish you later."

"You're already planning on punishing me later, Master Sebastian. You laid claim to me."

He squeezed her ass harder. "Yes, I did." He cocked his head. "I'm going to make it so that you're too tired to do anything with Clara."

Shamira grinned a little. They both knew that was a hollow threat. Since she and Clara had made up several days earlier after a tense spell, there wasn't anything that kept them from sneaking in some sex whenever possible. Sometimes Shamira was on her knees in bondage, sometimes it was much more akin to "making love," but it was always fabulous. "Of course you will."

Sebastian smirked. Hell, he'd been invited to play with them a time or two, but nothing short of a crowbar wielded by a giant was going to pry those women apart unless they wanted to. He glanced over and saw Shane debating the proposed policy with a number of other regional leaders.

Renata was at his side as his submissive, and the Representative stood on his side of the issue. Shane and Sebastian locked gazes, but Shamira looked away. She and Shane were still not on the best of terms. Shane looked disappointed, but then returned to the debate.

Worldwide, there was great division on this issue. A vocal and still sizable minority vowed that they would never accept the edict, another group thought it was a good idea but that it was too soon, and yet another that wanted to do it today. Luckily, the Tribunal stepped down hard on that last option.

"Well, you folks certainly have riled up the bee hive, haven't ya?" Clyde Pritchard said as he moseyed over.

"So where do you stand, Lord Pritchard?" Sebastian asked.

Clyde frowned and then looked straight at Shamira. "Okay, why didn't someone tell him I hate that whole 'Lord" crap. It's Clyde. Just Clyde. And what's with the mask?"

Sebastian leaned in. "Lord Stapleton though it wise that certain attendees not see my companion's face at this time. I would request that you keep your knowledge of her identity to yourself, as a favor to this house."

Clyde shrugged his massive shoulders. "I understand. 'Course, I couldn't mistake her smell for anyone else's," he said with a grin. "You're looking lovely, young lady." When Clyde spoke to her, he looked straight into her eyes, not checking out her body once. Shamira wasn't sure whether to be insulted or thankful. It wasn't as if Clyde was hard to look at himself. Clyde looked back to Sebastian. "I'm not sure the protocol on this, but I'd like to speak to her for a moment. Alone. Trust me, I ain't going to try anything funny."

Sebastian saw no harm in it, and Clyde Pritchard would be a good man to stay in the good graces of. His territory was relatively small, but it was an important refuge for weres that needed to get out and stretch their legs from time to time. Hell, the only were that Sebastian was probably more scared of was Travis McNeil, the werebear in charge of security at Prometheus. At least he worked for Shane.

Clyde's voice carried weight in the were community. Sebastian nodded. "Follow me." He led the threesome out to the edge of the gathering area. "Just try and keep it brief so we can go back and keep an eye on things." Sebastian turned and engaged a young female vampire from Chattanooga in a conversation laced with innuendo.

"Incorrigible," Shamira muttered through a smirk. Sebastian didn't have an off-switch for his libido. "So what's up, Clyde?" She liked Clyde Pritchard . . . he was kind of like that redneck uncle who let you ride the tractor, pet the hound dog on the porch, and eat way too much ice-cream. He could also rip a man in half when the mood struck him.

For the first time since they'd first met, Clyde actually looked nervous. He rubbed the back of his head, then stroked his beard for a second as he struggled for the right words. "Listen, this probably ain't the best place --"

"What? C'mon, spit it out," Shamira replied.

"Well, it's just so recent, and I wasn't plannin' on askin' anytime soon. You know, not until after the dust settles and everything, but just for future reference --" He paused. Damn he looked nervous.

"Okay Clyde, you're scaring me. And confusing me."

He took a deep breath and then, "Once the divorce is settled and all, I was hoping to court your sister."

Shamira's jaw almost fell off her face. "Excuse me?"

"I know, it's too soon and all now, but . . . but your sister is a fine woman. Ain't many around with that kind of heart and spirit, and she ain't exactly hard to look at --" He stopped as Shamira stepped forward and scowled. "Diplomatic immunity!" he practically squeaked. The sound coming out of such a rugged man was almost comical.

"But . . . but --" Shamira stammered.



"Don't give me no guff about me bein' a werewolf and all. You're a vamp after all. And I wouldn't push myself. I know what 'no' means and I respect it."

"But my sister?!" Shamira hissed. "You? But aren't you already . . . mated?"

Clyde shook his head. "I lost my wife five years ago to a drunk driver. Took me a while to get over it, and I figured the kids didn't need a new mom so much as a good dad, so that's what I tried to be. But it can get a might lonely," he said. "Your sister knows what I am and don't seem bothered by it at all."

Shamira was actually stunned, but mostly because she actually kind of liked the match. Clyde had a sense of honor that the asshole-soon-to-be-ex of her sister couldn't comprehend. "I don't want her in danger," was the only thing she could think to say.

"Real world ain't perfectly safe," Clyde said respectfully, "but I can promise that anyone who might mean her harm will have to go through me."

Shamira looked down at the ground, then back up. "Have you been harassing Patrick?" she asked, almost spitting her soon-to-be-former brother-in-law's name. "You know he and his lawyer have backed off of Samantha a lot. Seems to have started right after I asked you to check in on her."

Clyde grinned. "I may have a couple of associates that might have calmly discussed the situation with Mr. Patrick outside of his place of work late at night. Just possibly."

Shamira smiled back. "Give her space for a bit. And if you hurt her, you know what happens right? I wasn't allowed to go after Patrick because he's human . . . kind of . . . but your ass I can kick."

"Of that I have little doubt," Clyde replied, giving an outrageously extravagant bow.

"Well Lord Pritchard, I see that you've taken to sniffing at table scraps," came a voice about ten feet away. Both of them turned to see that Lord Lacroix was sauntering over.

Shamira hated the fact that Lacroix was pretty damn gorgeous in an annoying kind of way. His tux fit his six foot frame well, and his short black hair played well off his flawless pale complexion. Good-looking or not, she was convinced this man was evil beyond words, and her guard was up.

"Why is it that it always takes a redneck to remind a prissy-boy like you about minding your manners?" Clyde said, stepping between Lacroix and Shamira. Sebastian instantly appeared at the werewolf's side, and the two of them made an imposing pair. This caused Lacroix's security chief, a swarthy-looking vamp named Jonas, to step forward as well. "What do you want, nancy-boy?"

"How droll. I'm assuming from your uncouth behavior then that you're already humping Lord Stapleton's leg and have signed on for this lunacy?" Lacroix glanced at Sebastian and sneered, but paid no attention to Shamira at all. She wanted to deck him. "This is more of zoo than a real house." Finally he looked at Shamira. "And apparently that one must be a true dog to need a mask."

Sebastian's hand on Shamira's shoulder tightened to prevent her from moving forward and punching him in the nose. Insulting was acceptable behavior apparently, but beating the crap out of someone who richly deserved it wasn't. Instead, she just observed.

Several others came over to join in yet another argument about the Tribunal's edict. Shamira just looked at Lacroix and his guard. There was something wrong about him, but Shamira couldn't put her finger on it. Then she used her Shadow Sight, and . . . she suppressed a gasp. That was odd, very odd.

The one thing that finally got Lacroix to shut up and stop insulting everyone around him was when Shane and Alessandra came over. Lacroix's look towards Lord Stapleton was nothing short of acidic, and his opinion of the Representative wasn't apparently much higher.

"Lord Lacroix," Shane said, making an effort to look down his nose at his rival, "I see that you have wasted little time ingratiating yourself into my more civilized company."

"I rarely associate sleaze with civilized, but whatever makes you happy," Lacroix replied.

"Lord Lacroix, you WILL show some respect," Shane said smoothly. "Even if you have forgotten how to behave around a regional lord, surely you haven't forgotten the rules for when a Tribunal Representative is around?"

"Of course," Lacroix said, his voice turning to wine as he reached for the Representative's hand and kissed it gently. "Truly a flower amongst all this . . . rabble."

Lacroix and Shane began to debate for the millionth time that evening, and everyone else pretty much kept out of it. Alessandra made sure that things stayed cordial, though Shamira could almost feel her dislike for Lacroix rolling off in waves. Shamira pulled on Sebastian's hand until he glanced at her. She motioned gently to one side, indicating a desire to speak with him elsewhere.

Sebastian nodded and drew his slave away, cornering her against a tree and fondling her openly. It was expected for the dominants in Shane's house to treat their subs like this. Of course, it still got her a little hot . . . okay, a lot hot.

"What's on your mind?"

"I can see his blood," she whispered.

Sebastian blinked, trying to process that statement. "Come again?"

"I can see his blood inside his veins instead of just smelling it. The inside of his body is dark, and his blood . . . he can't hide what is in his blood from me. There's something hiding in his blood. I could pick it up with . . . you know," she added, rolling her eyes around. She wasn't supposed to mention any of her Shadow Aspects out loud. "Then I looked normally, and his eyes are weird. I didn't think vamps got bloodshot eyes, but his are. Just a little anyway. And he's got all these nervous twitches --"

"You don't think --" Sebastian muttered, scarcely believing his ears. "You think he's ON morning star?"

Shamira nodded, groaned softly as Sebastian rubbed her crotch. "Yeah, that's what I think. It makes sense. He's basically challenged Shane in defiance of the Tribunal's orders, he seems to think he's got a lot more stroke than he does . . . Doesn't morning star give you a feeling of god-like power?"

"It makes sense," Sebastian replied, slapping her pussy through the leather. "You think better when you're angry or horny don't you?" he chuckled.

"Yes sir," she murmured. "Sir, shouldn't we --"

He grasped her crotch harder. "Don't be contrary with me. If I want to take a moment to remind you of what you are, then I will." Then he put his lips close to her ear. "As soon as the meeting breaks up, we'll talk to Shane about this."

"And I need to call Kira and . . . and see if she has anything for me." Shamira bit her bottom lip as she pushed herself against Sebastian's hand, but he withdrew it. He put his fingers in her mouth, and she sucked on them like a good little submissive.

"Next time we do this, your cum will be on those fingers." Sebastian pulled his hand away and led her by leash back to where Shane was arguing with Lacroix.

" -- and you'll fail," the vampire from Savannah. "Maybe you've forgotten what being human was like, but I have not. Groveling in the darkness of ignorance, savage and uncouth. But maybe it will be for the best. Humans will react like the apes they are, and it will finally give us an excuse to take our rightful place at the top of the food chain."

"Be careful what you say," the Representative said in voice that silenced the rest of the crowd. "Outright revolution is and will always be a direct violation of Tribunal law."

Lacroix drew himself up and replied, "And you think the humans would care about your Tribunal's rules when the time comes. Maybe we should take the same frame of mind." Lacroix was impervious to the gasps of the crowd. In fact, he seemed to relish his borderline-defiance of the member of a Tribunal to her face. Lacroix's security chief stepped forward and put a hand on his employer's arm. The two locked eyes, but Shamira couldn't really get a good feel for what they were thinking.

"Pardon me," Lacroix said at last. "In the heat of argument, I seem to have . . . lost leave of my manners." He bowed. "Please accept my apologies, Representative."

Alessandra nodded, which was all the recognition she would offer. Shamira could tell that Shane wanted more, but violence was strictly prohibited at this meeting.

The meeting began to break up, with some guests going to their quarters while others chose to return to their home ports. Shane had told everyone to meet up in the dining hall once everyone else had left, so the two of them headed there right away. They were the first ones there.

"Okay, I think the first thing we should do is --" Shamira started to say, then felt Sebastian's hand grip the back of her neck firmly. He'd been playing with her all evening, never letting her know if they were off or on. When he pushed her forcefully onto the table and moved her legs apart with his foot, she knew they were on. And when he stuffed an apple in her mouth and told her to hold it --

"You should be already wet enough," he told her, unbuttoning his pants and releasing his already rigid staff. "So we can skip the foreplay." He pushed her fishnet body-stocking and thong enough to the side so that he could shove his length into her core with one swift stroke. "Now move your hips," he ordered, smacking her on the behind. "You think that I should have to work to fuck you?"

Shamira pushed back and the pulled forward, using herself as an object to stroke that magnificent cock. He slapped her ass harder to spur her on, but there was only so much she could do. She knew he was probably just doing it because he enjoyed spanking her. Also because she enjoyed it.

Yosyp wandered in with Valeska on the end of a leash. "You realize that we eat off that table?" he asked, his amusement obvious even with his accent.

"You think this is the first time this has happened?" He smacked Shamira's ass harder. "A lot worse has been done on this table, I assure you."

"Perhaps we could explore some of those 'worse things'? Valeska, strip," he ordered. The Chilean assassin slowly slithered out of her clothes, managing to look both shy and sultry at the same time. Yosyp whispered something in her ear which caused Valeska to get a massive grin.

Slowly, the woman began morphing into a really, really . . . really . . . big snake. Shamira hadn't seen Valeska's animal form, and she was quite intimidated by the twenty-eight foot anaconda slithering down the table toward her. "Just let her do what she's going to do," Yosyp said.

Shamira was wondering what Valeska was supposed to do, then remembered the conversation she'd had with the assassin on a mission downtown. Valeska began to slowly loop herself around Shamira, then began to roll. Soon, there was nothing visible of the vampire's body between the waist and neck, and Shamira was powerless to move. Super strength or not, she could feel an unnatural power in Valeska's snake body that was a bit frightening. But Valeska was as much a tool now as Shamira herself, living bondage gear for their amusement.

With Shamira suitably restrained and still basically bent over the table, Sebastian plunged back into Shamira while Yosyp knelt on the table, undid his fly, and let his cock poke out. Semi-rigid, he put it in the captive's mouth (after removing the apple of course) and ordered her to bring him to full size.

Shamira hummed and sucked, feeling him grow in her mouth. It was something she enjoyed doing, and something she was proud she could do. She couldn't remember ever feeling quite so confined. All the chains, ropes, and leather in the world couldn't quite compare to her living prison.

Sebastian had to do most of the work after all, since Shamira couldn't move. He didn't seem to mind as he penetrated her folds while smacking her ass with his bare hand. He was more man than Shamira thought she would ever be with. She was amused at the notion that he still didn't quite measure up to Clara in her mind. After all, her fist was still bigger than the end of Sebastian's cock, but this was still very, very good.

"I'm reasonably sure this wasn't the idea behind the meeting," came Reaper's voice from the door as he led Bunny into the room.
"She had several good ideas tonight," Sebastian replied, filling her with his cock and himself with the sensation of a magnificent woman.

"I was not meaning to complain," Reaper continued, "simply making an observation."

"Shane's on his way with Renata and the Representative." This time it was Lillian making the announcement as she, Clara, and Coramen made their appearances known. Clara made a point to sit where Shamira could periodically see her, and she had a smile that let Shamira know that Clara would have her turn later.

Sebastian was driving hard, angling himself to nail her sweet spot. It didn't take long before he was able to make her cum, feeling her clench greedily at him with her sex. More and more people came into the room as he continued to fuck her, digging his thumbs into her asshole and eliciting more pleasurable sensations there. Yosyp didn't seem to be in much of a rush, pulling his rod out and slapping Shamira's face with it.

Sebastian felt his own climax approaching, and he made sure he was as deep as he could go before releasing his seed. It was one of those good cums where he needed a minute after the last drop had been squeezed from his cock before he could pull himself free.

"Turn about is fair play," Yosyp said, pulling out of Shamira's mouth. "Valeska, change back." Shortly thereafter, there was a lean, nude, attractive woman lying on the table. He maneuvered her until her butt was on the edge of the table and her legs were spread to accommodate him. Then he looked at Sebastian. "Might I borrow your pet for a bit?"

When Sebastian nodded his consent, Yosyp had Shamira sit directly behind Valeska, after which the weresnake leaned back against her. Shamira wrapped her muscular legs around the assassin's midsection, then Yosyp leaned over and whispered something to her. Then, Shamira whispered something to the woman in her arms.

"Tap me on the arm when you want me to stop."

Valeska looked confused, but that look went away when Shamira locked her in a modified sleeper hold. Valeska, as everyone in the house had been told, was seriously into asphyxiaphilia, meaning she got off on being choked or deprived of oxygen during sex. For Valeska, the ability to orgasm depended on it, so every dom in the house had been getting training in the art.

Shamira knew how to choke someone out from her academy days, so she was confident she could help her friend achieve the release she needed. And she could see the eagerness in the submissive's eyes before she turned back to her master for the evening, waiting for him to penetrate her. As soon as he did, she felt Shamira's arms constrict.

Shamira took it easy at first, wanting to let Yosyp build a little momentum before she started to help out. Of course he was going to tease her for a bit, pulling out, holding himself at the entrance to her body, then slamming in again. Shamira flexed her arms, cutting off her friend's oxygen supply. She held on, watching Valeska's body be used for a vampire's pleasure, inspiring her own. She felt for signs of Valeska's body weakening too much, possibly even too much to signal . . . no, there it was. The woman knew how much her body could take and lightly tapped Shamira's arm, earning herself several deep breaths of air.

Valeska's body was reacting favorably to this treatment, having already developed a thin layer of sweat as her muscles tightened. After a few moments, Shamira tightened her grip again. After several sessions of this, Valeska came like an earthquake, trembling violently as her heightened senses allowed her to reach a state of heavenly bliss.

"If you are all quite through," Shane said from the end of the table, "we can get to business." He was smiling though, and Yosyp, Sebastian, and even Valeska responded with good-natured grins. Shamira looked away from the boss and slid into a chair next to Clara.

Shane noticed the diss, but since it wasn't blatant, he let it pass. "For the moment, there are no dominants or submissives. I need everyone thinking and speaking their minds. What do you all think of the meeting?"

Each of the members of the house spoke up while Shane and the Representative listened. Many noted that the magical community was afraid and while not many took Lacroix's stance, there was serious concern about hate crimes and the retaliations they might spawn. Sebastian bypassed his turn, saying that Shamira would report the findings for that team. So when it got to be Shamira's turn --

"I'm not sure whether or not this is something I'm supposed to talk about," she started. "It involves an accusation against one of the delegates."

Alessandra looked at the doors, which were promptly closes. "Princess Coramen, can you ensure secrecy? It is a common spell for faeries I believe."

The little woman floated to the center of the room, chanting and gesturing. A smell of fresh pine wafted through the room on a magical breeze and then, "Done. For the moment, this room is a secret place."

"Excellent. Now, Lady Shamira?"

"Okay, I . . . I looked at Lacroix with Shadow Sight and I saw something kinda weird."

Shane raised an eyebrow. "Define weird?"

"It was like I could see his blood. Or at least something that was hiding in his blood. And the way he acted during the debates was really weird. His eyes, the way he moved . . . what if he's on morning star?"

Henry growled. "That's one hell of an accusation, even for someone like Lacroix."

"But it fits!" she replied excitedly. "The way he's acting is consistent with morning star's symptoms. His constant challenges to you in spite of the Tribunal's orders, the arrogance that he showed, the jittery movement, and the eyes all fit. The morning star trade could be providing the capital for all these attacks on this house."

"The way that his security chief had to almost restrain him, like he wasn't in control of his own faculties, is another tell," Sebastian contributed.

Shane looked deep in thought. "I am hesitant to accuse him of consuming the drug," he started slowly watching Shamira's reactions, "but if you saw something odd about his blood, then there is something warranting investigation. The financial connection is viable." He looked at Alessandra. "How much leeway is the Tribunal willing to give me in pursuing this investigation?"

The Representative stood up. "There is something that you all should know. Lord Stapleton has been pushing for more authority in pursuing this issue, but the Tribunal requested that he hold back. Regime changes can be messy, and it was something that we did not want or need heading into the announcement."

"This evening showed that Lord Lacroix is going to make things difficult for all of us, if not outright defying us. Any official approval for outright conflict will need a vote of the full Tribunal, but I have already been instructed that Lord Stapleton's house may do whatever it feels necessary to defend itself, its lands, and the Tribunal's interests in this region."

Shane stood next to his creator. "From this moment on, I am slipping the leashes from the members of my house. Yosyp, Bunny, Bangaly, Bjorne . . . you all will work with the security team to keep the peace in my territories. Henry, I want you, Sebastian, Shamira, and the assassins to head into Lacroix's lands. Find out what he's up to and how he's financing his operations. I want to know who may be allied with him, and what his role is in the morning star trade. If it turns out that he isn't involved, then find out who is." He looked around. "Once our guests are on their way, then our job begins. Now, patrols will continue until tomorrow evening since we still have guests, so I'm canceling 'play time' until . . . Oh stop whining," he said as several "awhs" drifted up from the room. At least one of them was from Sebastian, which made Shamira smirk. She slid her hand into his lap, stroking him through his pants.

'What the hell,' she thought, 'he deserves some kind of consolation.'

"Okay, you're teasing," he groaned.





She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm sure you'll make me pay for it sometime." She got up and headed to the armory.

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The next night . . .

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"Please, come in!" Kira said anxiously, rubbing her hands on her apron as Shamira, Clara, and Sebastian stood outside the the door. She gawked a little when she saw the werespider . . . Sebastian had that effect on women. "We weren't expecting you for another hour, so I haven't had a chance to clean up yet. Who . . . who's your friend?"

Shamira smiled. "This is Sebastian. I'm working with him on that investigation I told you about, so I thought you should meet since you may need to interact with him directly. Sebastian, this is Kira Blanks."

Sebastian gave Kira a smile that made the girl's knees buckle, and then he kissed her hand. He knew about the condition that afflicted both Kira and her husband, but he understood it and wasn't afraid to be near them. The Blanks needed more people like that around. "Very pleased to meet you," he said.

"Very meet to pleased you too," she stammered. "Okay, that wasn't even English was it? Arthur! Honey! Our guests have arrived."

Arthur Blanks stumbled out of the single bedroom of the small apartment he and his wife shared. They lived frugally, saving as much money as they could for current and future treatment of the HIV that flowed in both their veins. The apartment was actually quite tidy, with pleasant-smelling candles burning on a number of surfaces, and the overall decorating theme was goth inspired. Arthur was tucking his black silk shirt into his pants "Uhm . . . hi? Okay, not the impression I wanted to make here."

"It's alright. I'll tell all the other vampires that you were dark, mysterious, and dignified." Shamira introduced him to Sebastian, then they settled down for business.

Kira pulled out a stack of papers that she had printed. "Okay, I looked into this guy's finances. Andrew Lacroix . . . says that he's thirty years old." She looked at her guests. "He isn't, is he?"

"Not for two-hundred and twenty years," Clara responded.

"Damn. How old . . . no, I won't ask. Anyway, most of his finances are tied up in real estate, and he has a number of hotels and clubs in the Savannah area. All of it seems to be above board, but then you've got his import/export business. The weird part is his exports."

"What's weird about them?" Sebastian asked.

"There aren't any. He seems to dish out money and the proper paperwork for bringing stuff into the country, but I can't find anything that gets shipped out."

"Any idea of what he's been bringing in?"

"Can't say that, but I can tell you where he's getting it. Africa is the big one on the list, but he's getting some stuff on the Middle East. I just don't find any records of him selling anything. This wouldn't be as unusual if he was simply listed as a collector, but as a business model it doesn't make any sense. What's strange is that the business STILL is reported as being in the black. Whoever he's got cooking his books is good. And there's more," she added excitedly. This was apparently the most fun she'd had in a while.

"Which is?" Shamira was smiling. Kira looked incredibly energetic, even more so that during their tryst on her last visit.

"I've seen people with doctors, lawyers, masseuses, and security on retainer, but this guy . . . he's got archaeologists, geologists, and even a herpetologist."

Shamira looked thoughtful. "Okay, what the hell is he up to? He could be using money from the morning star trade to beef up the import/export business, but --"

"What the hell would he need scientists like that for? What is he looking for in places like Africa?" Sebastian pondered.

"And someone who studies reptiles?" Clara muttered. She had a really, really bad feeling about this, but she wasn't going to bring it up in front of the others. Not until she'd had a chance to research it first. "Hey Kira, you're amazing."

"Yeah, you went above and beyond the call of duty on this one," Shamira said.

Kira blushed. "It's okay. It's nice that someone remembers that we're still useful." She had tried to keep her tone light, but tears tinged her voice. Most of their "friends" from their prior life had faded into the woodwork the day she and Arthur had been diagnosed.

"I won't forget it," Shamira replied. She glanced over at her friends, then directed her eyes to the door.

Clara grinned. "Anxious, are we?" She leaned in and kissed Shamira softly before standing up.

Sebastian followed suit, minus the kiss. "I can't follow that," he said, grinning at Clara. "Call us when you need a lift." Then Shamira and her donors were alone.

"So, the bedroom is that way?" Shamira asked, standing up and pulling Kira and Arthur with her.

Kira smiled. "Did you decide which of us you wanted to donate this time, or --"

Shamira grabbed both of their shirts, and pulled them close. "I think I can handle both of you," she replied. "I'd hate to break up such a perfect pair." She stepped into the bedroom, untying her vest and leaving it on the floor. Arthur and his wife stared at the door, then at each other, then hurried into the bedroom. Shamira had unzipped her pants and laid back on the bed, waiting expectantly with her breasts jutting up proudly.

Kira slid up next to the vampire while Arthur removed Shamira's boots and pants. He'd wanted the Elvira Mistress of the Dark get-up, but peeling black leather off of that sculpted body was a pretty damn good substitute. He left the thong on for the time being. He'd never thought that a woman like this would wear a thong until he remembered that she used to be a bodybuilder and had worn just as skimpy outfits on stage. He looked up and saw that Kira's eyes had already glazed over as Shamira kissed her neck.

There were no fangs yet, but his wife had a serious neck fetish. He loved seeing her like this, especially since they'd never thought they could have this life again. Strangely, the disease that might kill them both had delivered them into the life they had always wanted. They thanked the Goddess that someone like Shamira had taken notice of a couple that most wanted to forget.

Arthur kissed his way up the inside of Shamira's thigh until he reached her sex, then he worked his way along the other thigh. He was enjoying this too much, both what he was doing and what he was seeing his wife on the verge of cumming just from having her neck played with.

Shamira pulled away and rolled onto her side. "Why don't you two play for a bit?" she said as she leaned on her elbow. Suddenly the couple was flashing nervous smiles at each other, and it was actually kind of fun for the vampire to watch. 'It's nice seeing people like this,' she thought. 'In love.'

And that made her think of Clara. A lot of things made her thing of that wicked, wicked woman. After everything that Shamira had done in her short but active new sexual career, Clara was still the one that could make her want to blush. She decided to help out, lending a hand to Kira at getting her husband's pants off. When they were done, both of their heads were close to his rigid member, and they smiled at each other.

Kira went first, taking it into her mouth and slurping noisily, sucking on the head and then going halfway down the shaft. Then she pulled away and let Shamira have a turn, the vamp licking that purple mushroom before swallowing him to the root. Ah, the advantages of not needing to breathe. She sucked on Arthur for a minute while Kira sucked his clean-shaven balls into her mouth. Then they switched places again.

The vampire pulled back for a moment to watch Kira work her husband's shaft. She looked good . . . hell, they both did. She wasn't sure, but it actually looked like Arthur had lost a little weight, which might be cause for concern except that he also seemed less pale. And his sex drive wasn't exactly hurting, as he was grabbing his wife's hair and plunging his root into her mouth.

Shamira slid her hand down Kira's back, slipping a finger between her folds as she blew her husband on all fours. She let Kira take sole control of the rod and slipped behind her, fingering the woman's sex while biting her on the ass. Then she pulled those ass cheeks apart and let her tongue do some exploring, cutting through cleft with broad strokes.

Kira forgot how to blow cock for a moment. Her experience with women was limited, but Shamira seemed to know what she was doing. "Damn," she muttered, looking back for a moment. "Where'd you learn to . . . uhm, you know."

Shamira smiled. "Clara is a good teacher."

"Just checking. Ooh!" Kira cooed as the vampire went back to work. She gave her husband a lustful glance and then let his pole penetrate her mouth again.

Shamira flicked her tongue against that hard little clit, loving how it made Kira's body shake just a little bit. She sucked on each labia, swirled her tongue deep, then when back after the clitoris with a vengeance. Kira was moaning like a banshee . . . or at least what Kira imagined a banshee would sound like. She'd never met one. Shamira got a naughty idea. She grabbed Kira's climaxing body, lifted it up, and placed it securely on her husband's dick.

"What . . . are you --" Kira gasped. Then she felt Shamira's arms wrap around her from behind, lips pressed against her neck, and then -- "Oh Goddess!" Shamira's fangs dipped into that perfect skin, diving into the river of blood beneath the surface. Kira's heart felt like it might burst, but she felt no fear because that wasn't what Shamira wanted. She felt so hot that she thought her blood had become molten. It course up through her body and into Shamira's fangs, and she felt . . . every . . . single . . . drop. Kira climaxed over and over, clenching her husband's rod within her own body, connected to the man she loved.

The vampire withdrew her fangs and let Kira collapse against Arthur's chest, her chest heaving like only a satisfied lover's could. The couple kissed, then both looked slyly over at Shamira. Kira slid aside, allowing for the vampire to straddle Arthur's lap.

"I don't think I'm going to last much longer," he gulped, blushing a bit at the admission.

"You'll last long enough," Shamira replied. She sank down on to him and without missing a beat, sank her fangs into his neck. Each small movement of their hips away and then back towards each other felt like a jackhammer blow, and Arthur's sweat conducted his heat into her body. He came quick and he came by the gallon, but he didn't shrink until Shamira pulled her fangs away.

Then she reached up and dragged a nail along each shoulder, letting a bit of her own blood flow up. Kira and Arthur each attached themselves to a shoulder and tasted briefly of Shamira's blood, thrilled that they got to be, even if just for a moment, the kind of being they had idolized for so long.

Shamira got dressed and they said their goodbyes after Kira had promised to do a little more discrete digging into Lacroix's finances. Clara and Sebastian showed up in the parking lot a little while later, with Sebastian looking annoyed and Clara looking like the cat who'd just had a saucer of milk.

"I'm just saying," Sebastian was mutter as Shamira climbed into the car, "that us weres need something equivalent!"

"Equivalent to what?" Shamira asked.

"Donors. I mean, the vamps all get the house sex, then you vamps get a steady stream of somethin' somethin' on the side. Hell, you're encouraged."

"We NEED donors, you whiny bitch," Clara said, sounding vulgar and prim at the same time. "You can get all the action you want outside the house."

"If I want to get something but things are busy, I can't go," he explained. "You, on the other hand, are obligated to go get blood, and all of y'all pretty much turn it into nooky."
"Please! You can fuck Shamira any time you make a reservation, and you're worried about not getting enough?"

"Okay, that's a valid point, but --"

Shamira glared at both of them. "Sitting right here!"

Clara leaned over and kissed her. "I know." They went on to discuss the finer points of being able to have their way with Shamira's body, and she really had nothing else to contribute. It wasn't as if she really minded. Apparently, Clara had gone off to meet with one of her donor's as well, meaning Sebastian was the only one of them that had gotten any that night.

"Shamira, I was thinking we need to take a road trip. I want to check out Lacroix's warehouse, as much of his residence as we can, and come up with a pattern of his movements. From the way things sounded when the meeting ended, he's probably pretty pissed right now, so he might make a mistake.

Shamira nodded. "When do we leave?"

"This afternoon, I think. Banshee and Henry are older vamps, so they can sleep on the way down. Probably take two nondescript cars, loaded for bear."

"Afternoon, huh?" Clara said. "I guess that means I'm going to have to trump ownership of you," she murmured, giving Shamira a steamy look. "You may be gone for a few days --"

"Hey!" Sebastian yelped. "I had dibs!"

"You had her last night. And besides, what part of 'trump' don't you understand? I saw her first. Literally."

Sebastian was grumbling. "I'm sure there's something in the rules about slave-robbing."

"There is. Seniority. And the only ones who have more seniority than me are smart enough not to try and take her away from me if I might not be seeing her for a while."

Shamira's heart gave one of those rare, involuntary thumps. That was the most romantic thing anyone had said about her. Which was kind of odd, the more she thought about it.

They got home, Shamira and Clara hoping to get a few minutes to themselves before Shamira had to get ready, but they had a message waiting for them. Shane and the Representative requested Shamira and Sebastian's presence They headed over to a small conference room off of Shane's office.

The Representative, Henry, Banshee, Reaper, and Valeska were already there, and Shane wanted to discuss the upcoming foray into Lacroix's territory. They were there for about an hour, hammering out times, places, and communications strategies. Then everyone was dismissed except for Shamira, and soon she was alone with Alessandra and Shane.

"Yes ma'am?" Shamira asked.

The Representative smiled. "I was hoping you might join us for a bit. I sense that there is still some tension between you and Shane, and would like to help resolve it." Alessandra waited for a moment, sensing reservation on the young vampire's face. "For the time being, you can say anything and fear no reprisal. This is at my behest." She smiled. "I'll even say 'please' if it makes you feel better."

"Representative, I know you mean well, but my issues with Shane are just that . . . with Shane."

"But your issues are unresolved, and I cannot have that. Not now, not with so much at stake." Alessandra stepped forward and met Shamira's gaze. "This is not about petty rule disputes anymore. This is about putting our foot firmly down of the snake in the garden of Eden. Not only is Lacroix a possible dealer in the most diabolic substance in our community, but he has been openly defiant of his regional lord and of the Tribunal. We need to do more than defeat him. We must make an example out of him."

"Yeah, I get it. Anyone who challenges the system gets squashed." Shamira could hardly believe it, but for a moment she empathized with her enemy. Then she felt disgusted with herself.

"It's not the same thing and you know it," Shane grumbled. "I am at least trying to reconcile."

Alessandra looked the younger woman over. "In life, was it your nature to hold a grudge like this? Are you so disgusted with Shane --"

"It's not disgust," Shamira interrupted. "It's disappointment. I thought he'd be different than other bosses, but he isn't. And by whatever laws you people live by, he doesn't have to be. I'm still here because the job is important and . . . and because there are people here that mean something to me. I know that you want me to get over it and to some degree I have. I'm not mad anymore, but it doesn't mean that I trust him like I used to. And I don't feel . . . that way . . .when I look at him."

"And you are afraid this might affect your working relationship?" the Representative asked.

"Around here, there's not much difference between the work relationship and the house relationships. He made that perfectly clear when I first came here. Am I just supposed to lie back, spread my legs and think of England?" She noticed Alessandra's cocked eyebrow. "It's a saying I heard somewhere."

"You really think that I would do that to you?" Shane looked and sounded shocked.

"If you needed to show off your control to your peers, are you saying that you wouldn't? Isn't the rule in this community that appearances are everything?"

Shane looked beyond offended, bordering on a dark and brooding anger. "Maybe you SHOULD leave then," he replied coldly. "Finish this job and then set you up as an independent enforcer downtown. Or perhaps Lord Pritchard would be willing to take you on --"

"Lord Stapleton, would you excuse us?" Alessandra asked.

"But --"

"Shane, please," she continued, her voice flowing like a sweet Italian wine. As each sound passed escaped those promising lips, Shane's stiff posture melted just a little bit . . . in all places except one. "Wait for me in your workroom. I shall be there shortly." Now her voice held more eagerness than promise. Shamira was reminded of something Shane had once told her . . . his creator was also his first real submissive. That look of fondness returned as he glanced at the Representative before exiting the room. "You hurt his feelings."

"Yeah, feeling really bad about that," Shamira replied flatly.

"It does not strike you as strange that you could insult his leadership, his person, his culture, or even his manhood without causing a serious trespass, yet to say that he might take sexual liberties with someone less than enthusiastic is what finally does the job?"

"He gets offended anytime I challenge him on anything."

"He gets annoyed, yes, but not hurt. He would never take someone unwilling. To do so would violate his sense of honor at its very core. From the moment I first laid eyes on him, he has been the sort to protect those that needed it, and would never use his power to attain sexual favors. And if you were not so invested in being angry at him, you would probably acknowledge that one of Shane's visual appearance and style does not need such lowly tricks to bed a woman. Or a man, as his mood strikes him."

Alessandra looked towards the door. "I do not understand your almost fanatical need to not like him. I cannot understand anyone feeling that way about him. When we are done speaking, I shall go to him and he shall do things to me that very few are allowed to, and none who do them as well. I cannot understand NOT wanting him."

"How . . . how do you manage?" Shamira asked. "You're the most powerful woman . . . hell, the most powerful person that I've ever met? So how --"

"Vampire culture is about age," Alessandra interrupted. "The older you are, the more powerful you become. The more powerful you become, the more responsibilities you take on. So simply surviving in our world means taking on responsibility that not all of us want. I want to continue my existence, but there are those who covet the power I possess, not understanding that I would freely give it to them if I could. I would rather stay here, in Shane's arms, bed, and chains for the remainder of my days."

Her voice was soft and sensuous, and Shamira could hear deep, genuine love in every tone. "But I cannot, at least not yet. The rules need to be changed, and that will take patience, perseverance, and most importantly, passion. So you see, my desire for you to stay and help Shane has a selfish component."

"Which is?"

"Shane's house being the vanguard of change means that it will need direct support and supervision from the Tribunal."

Shamira grinned in spite of herself. "So to help the transition go smoothly, the Tribunal sends a member such as yourself to have a more hands-on role in the process?"

Alessandra nodded. "Note that this part is simply me being opportunistic. It was not as if I swayed the entire Tribunal to expose the magical realm just so that I had an excuse to come back here."

"Hey, you saw an opening and you took it. So are you staying here for a while, then?"

"I must return to Italy at some point to make certain arrangements, but I am in no hurry. Shane and I have much catching up to do." The elder vampire flashed a wicked smile. "And I would not be at all adverse to sharing him or being shared BY him should you someday find yourself more agreeable to being with him again."

She stood up. "I am going to him now, and he will probably strap me to the barrels and do unspeakable dastardly things to me, and for a while I will not have to be one of the most powerful people you have ever met. Enjoying my body will distract Shane from his current petulance."

"You use a lot of big words, you know that?"

"I've been alive for almost a millennium. I have received many word-of-the-day calendars in that time." Alessandra pressed a hand to Shamira's cheek. "The more I know of you, the more I am convinced that there is no better place in the world for you than right here. Perhaps when you get back, you could sit with him and talk. No apologies, no accusations, but just getting to know one another." She smiled. "Now if you will excuse me, I am sure that we both have people waiting for us."

Shamira nodded and left, looking for Clara. The Native American was already naked and lying on top of the covers of the bed they shared. Shamira was spanked suitably for making Clara wait, and then both those cheeks were nibbled on until the muscular woman almost came from just the touch of her lover's teeth. There were many more games to play for them, but they kept it light for the evening. When both were sated several hours later, Clara reminded her of a promise.

"When you get back, we're having that first date, dammit."

Shamira had grinned. This relationship, the weirdest she had ever been in by far, just always managed to make her smile.

----------- ------------------

Three days later . . .

----------- ------------------

Shamira was beginning to wonder how undercover cops and agents dealt with the mind-numbing boredom of stakeouts. She'd thought that there would be cool gadgets, skulking, espionage . . . in fact, there was a lot of waiting in vehicles that slowly began to fill with junk food wrappers and Starbucks cups. The six of them had spent their first day in Savannah getting the lay of the land, and then had broken into teams to start investigating Lacroix's haunts and patterns. For some unknown reason, Henry had decided to pair Shamira with Banshee, and the two women were not exactly bosom buddies. Shamira had not spoken to the assassin since she and Renata had thrown Shamira into a cell at Shane's behest.

At the moment, they were parked near a warehouse owned by their adversary, waiting for the sun to fall so that they could make their way in. It was nearly impossible, they had discovered, to keep Shamira out of a place without serious spellwork. And if Shamira could not shadow jump past them, Banshee could use her Mind Fog to walk right past guards. It was a difficult one-two punch for Lacroix to defend against, particularly since he did not know it was going on.

Banshee was sipping at one of those frou-frou kinds of coffee that Shamira had no tolerance for. Coffee should have sugar in it or nothing at all in her opinion. The svelte Asian woman glanced through the binoculars at the lighted grounds, verifying how many people they were going to have to contend with. And the place was inundated with external security cameras and the like, which is why this particular place had drawn extra scrutiny in the first place.

"The thing about most vampires," Banshee muttered, "is that they are too race-centric. Lacroix seems to employ humans, but he doesn't utilize them. And the lack of weres or other major magical creatures is a weakness."

"So you've mentioned," Shamira replied flatly. "Doesn't explain how we're getting around these ones. These guys are all human, right? So we can't hurt them?"

Banshee shook her head. "No, we can hurt them. We just can't be noisy about this, and we should at least try and avoid casualties. Human guards are not great threats to Shane, but murder investigations could be." She put the binoculars down. "So, you and Clara are getting serious, correct?"

Shamira smiled a little as she looked out of the car. "I guess. We haven't really . . . Hey, since when did you care --"

"Clara has been a friend for a long time, and I would like for us to be. And I bring it up because it was pointed out that you are in a better mood when you think of her. I was hoping it might make you more receptive to talking with me." Banshee's mouth quirked. "Unfortunately, social subterfuge is not a specialty of mine."

Shamira scrunched up her face. "Is this really the time to talk about this?"

"We have thirty minutes until sunset, and this time is as good as any. You have shown no interest in talking at any other time."

"Listen, Shane's the one I want the apology from --"

"That is good, because I have no intention of apologizing."

Shamira was a little confused by this tact. "So then what did you want to talk to me about?"

"I just wanted to talk. Shamira, I did what my lord demanded and while I disagreed with the decision, it was not evil. I would not serve him if I felt him capable of asking for truly evil things. I owe Shane more than you can imagine, and it will take more than one bad call to make me defy him."

"So when push comes to shove, you'll back him? Even if he's wrong?"

Banshee fixed those dark, knowing eyes on Shamira. "You speak of 'wrong' as if it were a black or white concept, and we both know that is not true. Cheating on your taxes or running a red light is on a completely different scale from draining the blood of vampires, undead, and faeries for profit. Punishing a child who did not truly deserve it by sending them to their room hardly constitutes a mutiny-worthy offense." She looked away.

"I have served Shane for a hundred and sixty years. I served him unquestioningly because that was the only way I knew how to serve a lord. Those I served before would have seen me eventually drown in the blood of my victims, but it took a vampire to save what was left of my soul. Shane saw something in me worth saving, as he has with all his children."

"Not all of them," Shamira said. "I mean, it seems that everyone is sane enough."

Banshee's mouth quirked again, making Shamira wonder if she ever actually gave full-fledged smiles. "Henry was an alcoholic with a tendency for vigilantism, even when he was a sheriff. Bjorne suffered from serious depression and was suicidal when he was brought over."

"Reaper was on the verge of becoming the worst sort of mercenary . . . the kind that had seen too much in a short life and was slowly ceasing to care. Bunny was headed towards the vapid debutante until her disease returned, and Pierre was falling into a paranoid world of shadows and mistrust before Shane first approached him."

"What about Clara?"

"And we return to the object of your affections," Banshee replied. "Suffice to say that Clara had . . . anger management issues. I will leave it to her to explain the details should you choose to ask. Her transformation over the last sixty-plus years has been quite remarkable, though she still has a temper."

Shamira smiled, remembering when Clara told her about throwing a lamp at Shane's head.

"I envy you, you know that?" Banshee continued. "For that look on your face when you think of her, or the look on her face when she thinks of you. I do not have a relationship like that. In fact, I never had. But I am content with my afterlife, and I am happy to have found the home Shane brought me into. Last but not least, I am happy to have met you. You are an insanely stubborn, incredibly appealing woman. You fear the smallest of creatures, yet you would charge head-on into battle with Dark Pools to protect people you barely know. You crave submission, yet you defy authority with almost reckless abandon. Quite frankly, you seem to have 'stirred the pot' as they say. I am glad you are here, and am still willing to put my friendship and existence in your hands. I simply want to know whether or not you value them."

Shamira smiled wryly. "I don't want to see you get hurt if that's what you mean. Which is strange, because I also want to punch your lights out."

"How typically American," Banshee replied smugly.

"Says the former Yakuza bitch."

"Touche."

"Heads up," Shamira said, cutting their heart-to-heart short. An armored truck was approaching the front gate. "What the hell is that doing here? Not your usual delivery vehicle is it?"

"I should think not. Can you see inside?"

Shamira looked. The warehouse grounds were warded so she could not use her Shadow Sight to look in, but the armored car wasn't. Unfortunately, "No. There must be a light on inside the back. Damn it."

"Remain calm," Banshee said, as the driver of the vehicle spoke to a security guard, showing identification and so forth. Her binoculars drifted downward. "How about the shadows underneath the vehicle?"

Shamira looked again and sure enough, there was a dark patch under the car. "This may be our best opportunity to sneak in," she agreed. They both got out and Banshee opened the trunk for her compatriot to climb inside.

"Once you are in, find a place to hide. I'll keep watch from out here. Do not use the phone unless you have to, but do not be afraid to call for backup if necessary."

"I'll keep that in mind," Shamira replied as the trunk closed. Instantly she homed in on the shadow cast by the heavy carrier and jumped into it. She quickly oriented herself, spotting the guard's feet from her hiding place. She grabbed onto the frame of the vehicle from underneath, lifting herself up just as the vehicle began creeping forward again. Being a vampire had many advantages.

The car pulled into the warehouse, where there were plenty of shadows to jump to. Luckily the wards were all around the perimeter, separating the inside from the outside, but allowing Shamira to move freely within the confines. She popped over to behind a stack of crates and took a looked around. It was an odd warehouse, and by odd she meant freaky. There were crates and so forth to be sure, but they were all broken and empty and carelessly discarded.

In the center were dozens of large glass tubes hooked up with all sorts of random paraphernalia which Shamira couldn't recognize. Science had never been her strong suit, but science fiction was a little more up her alley. They looked like weird stasis pods or something similarly cheesy. They contained murky bluish fluid that resisted both her normal and Shadow Sight, the latter of which made her nervous.

She watched as several warehouse workers moved to the back of the armored car and hauled another crate out of the back. Then two people who looked like they had slightly better breeding took over once it was loaded on a truck. These two looked more like scientists than grunt labor, and they took the crate apart with delicate precision to reveal a smaller container that was similar in sophistication to the tubes scattered around the room.

One of the scientists prepped an empty chamber, pressing buttons to cause the glass to lift up. Inside was a small concave stand. The other individual lifted the lid off the smaller container and reached her glove-protected hands into the thick liquid, pulling out . . . something oval.

'What the fuck?' Shamira thought. Whatever it was, it was quickly put onto the stand in the larger tube and the glass was lowered. Another few button presses and the tube began to fill with a liquid that was both chemical and magical in nature. Then the truck started up and began to turn. Shamira made a decision and, when it paused to let the warehouse doors open, she jumped back beneath it and let it carry her outside.

Banshee felt the weight of the car shift. She got out and, gun at the ready, popped the trunk. "You realize that you coming back out rather defeats the purpose of us trying to sneak in."

"I think I got the picture," Shamira said as she got out. "We need something with a bigger trunk. The spare tire is really not comfortable --"

"And now we return to the point," Banshee said irritably. "What did you see?" She listened as Shamira gave a detailed description of what she had seen. "What did you think it was?"

"An egg," Shamira muttered, her face showing her confusion. "It looked like a giant fucking egg."

Just then, they got a phone call from Henry telling them to meet up at rendezvous point. As a standing joke, they always met at a Waffle House somewhere, and this time was no exception. Banshee and Shamira hurried over, moaning when they realized they were the last to arrive. Somehow, every Waffle House had a couple of uncomfortable seats at every table, so that was where the latecomers got to sit. Each team gave a quick rundown of what they had uncovered. Henry and Reaper had been tracking down businesses owned by Lacroix and listening to the local rumor mill as much as they could.

The local lord had been neglecting some of his smaller enterprises for some time, and he rarely had his enforcers actually do anything to protect the general public. Sebastian and Valeska had been watching Lacroix's personal estate, noticing a relatively large number of guards for someone with the amount of territory that the vamp actually held under sway. Lacroix himself stayed holed up in his house, apparently sending his security chief Jonas to do the day to day operations.

Shamira finally got to tell what she had seen, which was met with skepticism and confusion. Henry figured it would be best to get Shane on the phone and talk to him. They called up the house and soon she was explaining everything again to a mini-conference of Shane, Clara, the Representative, and Lillian. There was some muttering in the background before Shamira interrupted.

"Clara, you said that you had a theory about this didn't you? Does this make sense to you?" She waited for a moment, picturing her lover thinking.

"Is there anyone around to hear this?"

"I'll turn the phone down, but there's no one else nearby."

"The geologist, the herpetologist, the areas that Lacroix is digging, and now this? I think . . . I think that was a petrified greater dragon egg."

"What?" Banshee said, leaning in and being very intense. "Why would anyone do something like that? There has not been a greater dragon since --"

"Since before the pyramids were ever built," the Representative added. "Only lesser dragons survived the Dragon Wars. Well, the lesser dragons and the spirit of Shadow Wing."

It was Sebastian who noticed Shamira visibly blanch. The woman really did not like being reminded of Shadow Wing and her potential role in the legacy of the last Moon Dragon. "Okay," he said, moving the conversation along, "Why would Lacroix be looking for old dragon eggs? There's no way they could still be viable, could they?"

"The few times that old eggs have been found, they were nothing more than rock or shells. But for Lacroix to have spent this much time and energy . . . how many tubes did you see?"

"A couple dozen," Shamira muttered. "About fifteen filled with that goo. And whatever that stuff was had some magic in it too, not just chemicals and crap. Damn, I should've tried to get samples."

"You might have tipped our hand a bit early had you done so," Shane said. "Though we will certainly want to investigate this further. The question remains, if he is attempting to hatch a dragon -- "

"We're left wondering why," Henry muttered.

"He wouldn't want to use it as a weapon would he?" Valeska asked. "I mean, he's completely unhinged and trying to take territory."

Shamira furrowed her eyebrows. "That doesn't follow though. From the sound of things, that would be WAY over the top. Once we go public, it wouldn't be quite as insane, though it still sounds like hunting mosquitoes with a bazooka. But that's a new idea, and he's obviously been up to this for a while. And masterplanning usually isn't a characteristic of drug addicts. BAD planning maybe, which this kind of is, but it's also kind of involved."

"Maybe he intended to go public with or without Tribunal approval? Or maybe he was just going to threaten Shane. Even one Greater Dragon would easily tip the balance of power."

"But with several, he could threaten the Tribunal itself," Sebastian whispered. Silence overtook all of them. Such an idea was unheard of, and revolutionary notions against the Tribunal were responded to with quick and generally painful death.

"Regardless, " the Representative continued, "I want you to obtain one of those eggs and have it brought back here for study. Any word on the morning star trade?"

"Not yet," Sebastian replied. "Lacroix never leaves his house."

"But Jonas does," Shamira almost whispered, and for a moment everyone stared at her. "What if we've been barking up the wrong tree? I mean, Jonas is the security chief, right? So any stray weres or magicals that come through report directly to him. He has to know what is going on, and maybe --"

"Maybe he's even behind it?" Henry leaned back. "It's worth looking into. Banshee, you and Shamira trail Jonas the next time he leaves the house. Sebastian and Valeska are going on an Easter-egg-from-hell hunt, and Reaper and I are going to start arranging for Shane's remote enforcers to get down here. I think it's time we turned the heat up under Lacroix."

"Agreed," Shane said solidly. "I'll have Renata start making arrangements to move people down there."

"Could we have Coramen warn her people?" Shamira asked. "If things are going to get hairy, they might want to be on their guard."

"Good thinking. She wanted to go home for a bit and explain her new living situation anyway. Now she can help bolster the colony's defenses as well."

"New living situation?" Sebastian asked.

"Yes. Coramen will be joining the household. She has the skills and the . . . well, skills to be one of us. Very talented woman, which I'm sure she will be happy to explain herself the next time she sees you all. We'll have to set up some new rules, but I think everyone will be happy with the arrangement."

"She's only four inches tall," Reaper muttered. "How . . . never mind. I figure we'll find out soon enough."

"Assuming we all live through this." Inwardly, Shamira was pleased. Like Reaper, she wasn't sure how Coramen was going to be an active sexual part of the house, but weirder things had happened. Many of them had happened to Shamira.

"Oh, Clyde Pritchard has been invited to participate in this hunt. He was more than happy to volunteer his people after his altercation with Lacroix, and he has great influence in the were community. And," Shane's voice became amused, "he said that Shamira might appreciate the help. What exactly did you do that's made him so interested in your approval?"

"I . . . he . . . it's none of your . . . okay, he wants to date my sister."

Everyone except Banshee started to snicker, and even the assassin's lips started to quirk.

"I see," Shane said after a moment of silence. "Does your sister --"

"He asked for permission to court her, that's all. It's still her call. And since when --"

Sebastian covered his friend's mouth with his hand before she could start yelling at the boss. "We'll be in touch." He grinned as Shamira glared at him while he turned off the phone. "You heard the man. Let's get to work."

---------- ----------------------------

A few hours before dawn . . .

---------- ----------------------------

"It's about fucking time," Shamira bitched. "I thought this guy was never going anywhere."

Banshee glared at her. "Yes, I am sure your time went by so much slower than mine, considering the hour long phone conversations with your sister and with Clara."

Shamira suppressed a grin. "Total agony."

"For one of us anyway." Banshee made a point of cleaning out her ear with one fingertip. "Let us give chase."

"Let us give chase," Shamira mimicked childishly. "Who talks like that?" She started up the car.

"I am beginning to think that I liked you better when you were not speaking to me."

Jonas headed northwest of Savannah, finally turning off to Dublin and seeking out one of the seedier areas of town. Jonas was driving alone, which meant that he was very secure or incredibly stupid. When he pulled into what appeared to be an abandoned garage, Shamira and Banshee could both briefly make out a number of police cruisers on the interior.

"Fuck!" Shamira hissed. "Just like the ones that pulled us over up north of Macon!"

"And the proverbial plot thickens," Banshee replied.

"We can tie Jonas to the kidnapping attempts, now we just need to tie the kidnapping to the morning star trade."

They sat in silence for a while, watching the garage. Shamira was suppressing a desire to go in with guns blazing, something she had never experienced as a living beat cop in midtown Atlanta. Her hand caressed the handle of her gun as if it were Clara's leg, smooth and hard and promising her great fun.

'You are one sick puppy,' she thought. Finally, the garage door opened again and cars came streaming out and began to separate into two groups. "Crap, now what?"

"There is Jonas's car," Banshee said. "He is our primary target."

"But the last time we saw those patrol cars out on the road, they were going to kidnap people. Us, to be more precise. We can't let them do that."

"Well what do you suggest? We only have one car, so we can't very well . . . Where do you think you're going?"

Shamira was climbing out of the car, the keys still in the ignition. "I can follow one group and report their locations and activities to the new guys coming down, and you can find out where the hell Jonas is off to."

Banshee's delicate features looked troubled. "I do not like the idea of splitting up while in hostile territory."

The younger vampire looked away anxiously. "Listen, this could be important. What if they're off to grab someone to take to a bleeding house?"

"It is too dangerous."

"Our jobs are dangerous. You kill people for a living. But MY job is to protect people."

Banshee sighed. "Stay out of sight, and you are only to report on their movements. No heroics." But even as she said it, Banshee realized that Shamira would do whatever she felt necessary. There was a hunger in her eyes and soul that was unquenchable . . . something that Shane did not fully understand. She would give so much of herself for other's pleasure, but this . . . this need to guard those who could not defend themselves . . . this was a part of her that she kept for herself. It made her difficult to work with, but it was what made her so special.

'No wonder Clara feels for her so,' she thought. Banshee knew what Shane would say or what Henry would say, but neither of them were here. "Be careful," she said at last as Shamira faded into the darkness of an alley and vanished into the shadow world that only she could traverse. Banshee immediately got on the phone with Henry. 'Please let me have done the right thing,' she thought.

Shamira was surprised how easy that Shadow Jumping had become for her. She reached her eyesight down the road, finding shadows and sliding through them, then watching where the caravan of patrol cars was going before getting in front of them again. In the enveloping darkness of the night, she did not seem to tire as quickly, and she began to play with her aspect, appearing on tree limbs, standing on top of building or even briefly on the top of a telephone pole. She grinned as she accomplished balancing acts that a circus performer would have balked at.

'Being a vamp is kinda cool,' she thought. She trailed the caravan until it reached an area she was a little familiar with. 'This is where we were attacked. Do they really have that many strays coming through this area?' She watched as about eight cars began to take up positions near a remote intersection. She snuck away and got Henry on the phone.

"Hey Henry," she whispered. "Listen, I don't know if Banshee --"

"Yeah, she called. What the fuck are you thinking?! You remember the whole point of pairing up is for protection, right?

"These guys are up to something!," she replied. "Listen, they're set up in a classic ambush pattern, and there's a lot of them."

"If there's a lot of them, then it makes it that much important that you get your ass back here right now. You're outnumbered by an unknown quantity."

"I've faced them before. Besides, don't we have more people on the way yet?"

"It's going to take time to get down there. Shamira, it's too dangerous -- "

"Henry, if I'm right, and they ARE here to catch some vamp or stray or faerie for the morning star trade, do you really want to be the one that let them walk into a trap?" Instantly, she could feel the chill emanating from the other end of the line.

" Don't you dare use that line with me," he growled. "Not now and not ever. I know a hell of a lot more about what this fight means than you do. I want the source, and that's back here in Savannah. Now, you WILL get your ass back here in the next three seconds or --"

Shamira didn't even wait until the end of the statement to express her outrage by hanging up on Henry. He wanted the big fish? 'So that's the way it is now? Screw the little guy while you go for the big prize?' Even as she thought it, she knew that she was not being fair to him, but she couldn't just walk away until she had negated this threat or confirmed that they weren't going to catch anyone this night.

Her phone started vibrating before she even got it into her pocket, but she chose to ignore it. She figured she'd probably just bought herself more time in one of Shane's cells, but she could live with that a lot more easily than knowing that some innocent creature was being bled to death when she could have prevented it.

Her phone stared vibrating again, so she checked it, figuring it was just Henry refusing to give up. 'Crap,' she thought. 'It's Shane. I guess I could just not answer it.' She mentally sighed and flipped it open.

" Have you completely taken leave of your senses?!" came Shane's angry voice before she could could say anything. "Are you still trying to get kicked out of the house? Every minute you spend ignoring Henry's order will be an hour in the cell. Your recklessness is putting the entire operation at risk."

"Risk? I'm just keeping an eye on the bad guys. I thought that's what we were supposed to be doing."

"You are supposed to be observing Lacroix, not chasing his lackeys across hellfire and creation. And you are most assuredly not supposed to be doing it alone. Banshee showed poor judgment letting you do this, so she'll be punished as well."

"Why don't you stop threatening us and let us do our job? Don't take it out on Banshee because you're pissed at me."

"The senior partner on every squad is responsible for his or her decision. Banshee admitted to Henry that she did nothing to discourage you, so she must be held accountable. Now jump back to Savannah or --"

"I can't," Shamira whispered. "Something's happening. One of the cruisers just turned their lights on." She stared through the dark woods. "Man, I think the backseats of the cars are spelled, because it's dark as hell out here but I can't see in."

"Shamira, this is incredibly dangerous. You shouldn't --"

"They're pulling over a bus . . . no, an RV. One of the other cars is creeping in behind it." Shamira didn't like the looks of this. RV to her said "family." She saw an officer talking to the driver of the RV and heard them talking. The driver sounded confused, then alarmed when the officer started shining a flashlight in his eyes. There was something wrong about that light . . . it reminded Shamira of the glow given off by those . . . "Detection devices," Shamira muttered. "He's making sure they're magical."

"What? Shamira talk to me!"

Shamira saw another two fake cops sneaking up on the RV. With no warning, they opened up the side door and charged inside, with all their comrades rushing to support. Then Shamira heard screams, and they chilled her to the bone.

"They're attacking them!" Shamira growled into the phone. "Dammit Shane, I heard kids!" She heard Shane screaming at her to wait for backup, but she was no longer listening. Her phone fell to the pine-needle covered turf as she hurried to join the battle, Shane's voice becoming nothing more than a distant murmur in the South Georgia wind.

She hurried through the woods, taking inventory of what was facing her. Two guys per car and six cars equaled twelve opponents. Two had gone into the RV now, and one was holding a gun at the head of the driver. He had to go and quickly. She looked out with Shadow Sight and saw the two remaining cars pulling up, cutting off both avenues of escape for the trapped family. One man was still in one of the original two vehicles, leveling a shotgun at the vehicle parked in front of it using the crook of the cruiser's open door as a brace. .

'Gotta take out the heavy lumber,' she thought. She saw the shadow underneath the car and jumped to, then rolled out the other side, standing up behind her quarry and breaking his with a quick turn of her hands. For a moment, she felt greatly disturbed by how easy that had been.

It was the second time in the last two months where she had broken someone's neck, and she was beginning to believe that become a vampire either was changing her more than her compatriots would admit or that she had been repressing more feelings than even she could comprehend. No more time to think about it.

"We got company!" shouted a voice from further down the road as two men clambered out their patrol cars. One was pulling a car out while the other held some kind of amulet. For some reason, the amulet made Shamira more nervous than the more traditional weapon. And when it shot a burst of flames out, she was just barely able to physically jump out of the way, hurdling the car and using it as cover.

Shamira heard screams coming from inside, and her mind started into overdrive. She was surrounded, and these guys could kill her. The ones in the RV would probably take hostages and . . . 'The RV!' she thought. She looked and her opportunity in the form of a tiny but dark bathroom towards the back of the vehicle. She rolled under the police car and then Shadow Jumped into the RV. She appeared in the bathroom and then put her ear to the door, listening intently to everything outside.

The fake cops were shouting, having just been alerted to an attacker that had mysteriously vanished. She smiled as she identified the rough locations of her enemies. Two up front now, and one back here. She heard the muffled screams of several occupants, and one set was getting nearer.
'He's bringing up a hostage from the back,' she thought. She waited patiently for the voice to get closer, listening to the scuffle as someone was pulled past the bathroom door. Shamira quietly opened the door and grabbed the gunman by both the neck and the wrist. He struggled to keep hold of the little girl that he had grasped against him . . . a little blond-haired girl that clung just as tenaciously to her doll.

In an instant, Shamira took in the surroundings. The RV was obviously not a luxury item for a family traveling across country. It was well worn on every edge, with carpet that looked left over from the seventies. These people had invaded another family's home, threatened their lives, and scared a girl who couldn't be more than eight. Her hand quickly covered the man's mouth so he couldn't scream and she yanked him back into the bathroom.

She didn't know why she did what she did next . . . she'd never felt a need to do so in her previous fights, but now she was feeling savage. She yanked the man's neck to the side and buried her fangs in his flesh. As she drained him of his life's essence, she let her anger backlash through his mind. All he did was let out a whimper as she fed, growing stronger by the second. He made no noise at all when she broke his neck. She looked at the little girl who was a hair away from screaming and motioned toward the back of the RV with her head. The girl nodded and fled.

Shamira walked outside again and pulled both pistols from under her vest. Two men stood towards the front, looking out for the thing hunting them, not knowing they'd locked themselves inside with it. Each had one of the parents heads locked in the crook of their arm with a gun pointed alternately at the head or the window.

There was another child, this one a young boy, cowering next to the beat-up table halfway down. He froze when he saw Shamira slowly approaching, her finger pressed to her lips. She put the tips of the silencers inches from the backs of her enemies heads and promptly sprayed brain matter all over the front windshield. Luckily, the parents were already screaming, so the fake cops weren't instantly alerted. But they would probably notice the red smears on the windows pretty quickly, so she had to act.

"Listen close because we don't have a lot of time," she told them. "I'm going to clear a path for you. Get to the interstate and head north." She took a deep sniff. "Weres?"

The man nodded. "What's going on? We were told we had permission --"

"Permission from who?"

"Lacroix," the wife stammered.

"His security guy," the husband countered.

"Jonas?" Shamira asked.

"That's him."

"Do NOT contact them again." She grabbed a crayon off the ground and started to write on the back of a receipt. "Call this number and ask to talk to Renata. She is Lord Stapleton's security chief. Tell her what happened here."

"But --"

"But nothing," Shamira hissed. "Lacroix and his people betrayed you."

The man looked angry. "Let me help. Werehorses may not be the most ferocious , but --"

"But you have a family that needs you. Once I get those cars out of the way, you floor it and don't look back. Got it?"

They heard more shouting and Shamira had to duck as bullets came flying through the windshield. Apparently, the bad guys had figured where she was. She handed one of the fallen men's weapons to the driver, and he looked like he knew how to handle it.

"Guard your family," she whispered angrily. "They're what matters." She meant it. He nodded. She moved. Shamira dived out the door, drawing gunfire and flame blasts away from the RV. She moved faster than she'd ever thought possible as the surround woods erupted in nightmarish noise, minor explosions, and burning wood.

'Gotta get those cars out of the way,' she thought. From the shadows of the woods, she jumped behind the cops and watched them scan the shadows for someone they couldn't catch. The closest patrol car to her new location was empty. 'Perfect.'

She crept slowly up to the car, crawling into driver-side. She needed to time this perfectly. She scooted down in the seat until three of the surviving assailants were in the road. She started up the patrol car and gunned it, plowing forward and t-boning the other car. Smoke erupted from the tires as the squealed in agony as Shamira shoved both cars through the enemy ranks and then off to the side. She managed to mow one guy down, but the other two were able to dive for cover.

But the road was cleared and the RV began moving forward awkwardly, as the father was trying to keep his head down and drive at the same time. Shamira physically jumped out of the car with guns drawn, shooting at the enemy and drawing their attention to her. She was able to down one permanent, while another hit the dirt but was still moving. They apparently had body armor.

'Six dead, one injured,' she thought. She hid behind a tree as another hail of shots sought her out, but she was able to see the RV passing the wrecked cars. 'They're going to make it.' That was when she saw one of the fake cops hold up an amulet and point it at the back of the slow-moving vehicle. She leaned over and put two shots into the man, making sure he stayed down.

Then she heard another series of shots and her arm exploded in pain as silver bullets ripped through it in two places. She quickly collapsed to her knees, trying to avoid going into shock. She'd never been hit with silver before, and it made the night she was killed and brought over seem like a flu shot. The substance seemed to infect her blood, searing through her veins like liquid fire.

'Seven dead,' she thought again. 'One injured.' The RV was far enough away that she hoped the remaining guys would catch it. 'No, I've got to be sure,' her thoughts laced with agony. With her good arm, she leaned out and shot at the two remaining patrol cars, puncturing tires with uncanny precision. All the while, her injured arm screamed at her, defying her mind's attempts to achieve clarity. She had done all she could . . . it was time to jump. But the silver was draining her energy, and the pain clouded her mind. She could not picture where she wanted to go, so she decided to make a run for it.

Shamira ran through the woods, and she could hear the pursuit through the pounding in her ears. She had lost her cell phone, so she couldn't call for help. 'What the hell am I doing?' she thought. She looked back and saw her pursuers shining eerie blue lights through the trees, and she knew that they'd be able to find her with those lights. Of course, they also helped her find them.

With no small amount of effort, she steadied her gun in her fully functional hand and fired just behind one of those lights, and she heard the death sigh of the man carrying it. Two lights turned towards her and she took aim. She extinguished one through silver-tipped violence, and the other turned itself off. They realized what she was doing.

'Nine dead, one out.'

She burst through the trees to find herself back on pavement. She was too exposed there, and it wasn't where she wanted to be. She saw lights approaching from up ahead, but it didn't look like any cop car. She dove off the road just before a tow-truck came trundling up, its brakes whining and complaining at the sudden stop.

The woods rustled behind her and she stumbled back towards the road, trying to keep her eyes on the truck and on her pursuers at the same time. The truck door opened and she was able to make out a single lean shape getting out of the driver side. The temporary distraction brought her guard down just a little, but it was enough for one of her enemies to graze her arm with another silver bullet.

But those same enemies thought that the darkness hid them from her, not realizing that the thick black night was her ally. She made them out as easily as if they had been glowing, and her remaining shots in that gun ended two more lives.

'Eleven dead, one out. That's all of them,' she thought as she sunk to her knees on the far side of the road.

"Hey," came a warm, masculine voice from the truck. The man stood in the light, so her night-sight was actually backfiring on her. But as he got closer, she recognized him. "Daniel?" she whispered. It was the elf she, Bunny, and Sebastian had met on that last trip down into this area. "What . . . what are you doing here?"

He approached and looked down on her, then offered her his hand. "You're not just some random passerby are you?" he asked softly.

Shamira struggled to her feet, shaking her head and trying to concoct a cover story. She was pissed that she wasn't as quick and creative as Sebastian had been, but she need not have bothered.

"You lied to me," the elf said, his voice suddenly less warm. "I was nice to you and you lied to me." His other hand swung at Shamira's head, holding some object he had gotten off his belt, and it connected with the side of her skull like a ton of bricks.

Shamira barely had time to groan in pain before her consciousness left her and she heard, "I warned you. You should have stayed gone." After that, a less comforting darkness than that brought on by night claimed her and she heard and felt nothing more.

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Elsewhere . . .

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"Damn it!" Shane said, slamming his phone onto his desk and breaking it into small shards. Renata sighed and grabbed another one out of his desk drawer. Ever since Shamira had joined the house, they'd had to keep a lot of extras for just such tantrums. "She's not answering!"

"You think she's hurt?" Clara asked nervously.

"She could have just turned off her phone," Renata mumbled, not at all convinced of that.

"No, it's on. It's not going straight to voicemail. Why does she absolutely refuse to listen to anything I say?" fumed Shane.

"At this point? Probably because YOU say it. Besides, she's just making the same kind of decisions that got her killed the first time that you admired her so much for." Instantly, Renata wished she hadn't said that, because Clara looked even more edgy.

"You don't think . . . damn, why can't she wait for back-up?" the shaman replied.

Shane shook his head. He did not want Clara getting more agitated than she already was. He also felt lost. He knew that everyday there was a chance that one of his children could get into trouble, but Shamira was a special case in more ways than one. He'd never felt like such a failure as a sire before, and he selfishly resented Shamira for making him feel this way. "She made this bed," he said slowly, locking Clara's eyes with his own, "now we have to see how it plays out."

"Sir," Renata asked quietly, "might it be possible for you to send me?"

"You're my chief of security. Your job is here."

"My job is to protect your house. The Representative and her entire bodyguard contingent are here, so I doubt anyone will be insane enough to come after you. I'm a better tracker than anyone down there."

"Lord Pritchard's men are nearby, and he has a number of weres that he has dedicated to my command. I'll send a team of them."

"Sir, please!"

"Any issues or guilt you have regarding Shamira must be put aside. We still have a job to do, and I can't drop everything else to go chasing after a renegade vampire."

"She's just trying to protect people!" Clara growled. "Like she always does! Yet you seem to see that as a bad thing. She defied you, so you're hanging her out to dry?" Clara actually squeaked a bit when Shane charged across the room and grabbed her by the front of her leather corset, lifting her off the ground.

"I will only tolerate so much insolence," he said, his voice cold and edgy. "And don't you dare think that I don't care. I love all my children and my house, even if they do drive me crazy." He knew he should send her to a cell for her challenge, but not this time . . . not tonight. Not with Shamira missing, and not when Clara was currently helpless to do anything about it. Sticking this woman in a cell now would put too much of a strain on her psyche. So he put her down and turned away.

"Sir, we need to show that we can look after our own." Renata looked almost as pained as Clara. "Send Pritchard's men as well, but we should have one of our own leading the search, and Banshee's talents would be better suited tracking down Lacroix's flunkies. Please," she whispered.

Shane stopped and looked back. "We give her a few more hours, then I'll decide. We don't even know where to look."

"Please be all right," Clara whispered, mostly to herself though the other magical beings picked it up. "Please, please --"

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Some time later . . .

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Shamira's mouth felt like cotton and bile when she woke up. Her vision was blurred, and the intensely bright light hanging somewhere overhead was not helping matters at all. Her hands were secured, with what felt like leather-lined metal, and her restraints were secured to a chain attached to the ceiling. She hung freely, her feet cuffed together with similar devices, and she was at least two feet off of the ground. She was also naked as the day she was born.

"Wuh . . . what --"

"You should have left when I warned you," came a masculine but now no-longer-tempting voice from behind her. "I was nice to you because I disrespected you about your car, so I gave you a way out." Daniel the elf walked into her view. He still looked like a Greek god, with a chiseled and smooth chest exposed to the world, tight leather pants and his beautiful hair flowing unrestrained by a headband. But his eyes were anything but friendly now. They were just . . . dark.

"Why . . . what --" Shamira babbled, trying to get her eyes to focus. Slowly, things began to clear up, and she saw chains . . . chains lining every wall in her field of view. Those walls, those chains, and the floors beneath were splattered with rust covered splotches . . . blood.

"You aren't who you claimed to be," Daniel continued calmly, then slugged her hard in the ribs. Shamira growled in pain and yanked on her bindings, but they didn't give. This elf apparently knew how to restrain people. He sighed, then continued talking. "You lied to me. Who are you?" He slugged her again on the other side.

Shamira stopped trying to pull on her chains, realizing that she was just wasting her strength. She blocked out the pain she felt from where she had been shot and more recently punched. She felt so weak. "What . . . I was just passing through and those guys . . . Augh!" She yelped when another blow landed solidly in her midsection.

"Stop . . . lying. You killed eleven well armed and trained men, and wounded the twelfth. You carried substantial firepower. You've been shot several times, and yet you kept fighting. And you cost us so much blood," he whispered, gripping her arm in a place a silver bullet had passed through, digging his thump in until it ruptured the scar. Shamira bit back her scream this time, though the pain rampaging through her system was worse than anything she had ever imagined before.

"You fucker!" she hissed at last. "You're a bleeder?! You . . . you son of a bitch!" He was one of them. She had been looking for those involved in the morning star trade, and she had stared one of the worst of them in the face and did not even know it. She looked up and saw a couple of grates nearby and she knew . . . she was underneath the garage. Damn it, she had stood not more than twenty yards from where she was now. How could she have been so foolish? She had completely and utterly failed, and now she was going to die for it.

"Luckily, weres are a dime a dozen," Daniel said softly, pulling his had away and wiping Shamira's own blood on her exposed abdomen. "We still have one left over," he added glancing behind her. Shamira heard chains rattle, and she realized that she wasn't alone in her captivity. "He's too scrawny though. I doubt he'll give us even a sixth of what we need for another batch. And faeries have gotten damn hard to catch around here."

Daniel hauled off and punched Shamira in the kidneys. She may not officially need them anymore, but it still hurt like hell. Then he spun her around so that she could see the other captive, and her heart broke. Were or not, the kid couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen years old, and he was a scrawny as Daniel had claimed. He did not look starved, but he did look . . . empty.

"You couldn't just stay gone," she heard Daniel say from behind her, "so now . . . now I make you less of a problem and more part of the solution." His voice dropped to a thin whisper. "I may not be able to bleed you dry yet, but I can do so many things with a body like this without spilling a drop."

Shamira thought about those words, especially "a body like this." When Clara said those words, it made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, even if the feeling only lasted for the utterance. The way her friends at the house had looked at her had made her feel so amazing. Hell, she even admitted to herself that the first time Shane had said something similar had been one of the first times she'd genuinely felt desirable.

When Daniel said them, she felt a void inside her, and that void was growing. Suddenly, she felt a sharp and searing pain in her back and she heard the familiar sound of a whip cracking. A silver-tipped whip . . . Shamira's own whip. She screamed into her teeth, but trapped the sound there.

"It will be a while until my partner is able to round up more men," Daniel said, running his hand over the scar he had just created. A normal whip would have opened her up and caused her to bleed, but the silver caused the wound to instantly cauterize and form a nasty scab. "When he does, they'll go hunting, and then you'll be nothing more than a blood cow. But until then, I'm going to practice my art on you. You might as well let the scream out," he added, letting the whip fall on her left shoulder-blade. "They all do."

Shamira didn't know how long it took before she started to scream . . . then sob . . . then whimper. The elf landed lash after lash on her skin until she the scars covered almost a fourth of her exposed skin. When he broke both of her knees with a sledgehammer, she let out a shrill whine that she could not even recognized as herself.

Daniel had to magically revive her after a shot to her jaw dislocated it, leaving her jawbone only attached on one side and otherwise hanging limply in the skin. Shamira though she had no screams left in her. Her face was covered with sweat and tears, her body with sweat and scars. The were looked at her with terror and revulsion.

The only weeping Shamira could do was in her own mind. She prayed for death. She had never been particularly religious, but she prayed as hard as she could. Daniel had won. Lacroix or whoever this partner is could have her. She'd sell her soul for just a second without pain. But Daniel was not quite done. She saw him approach with some kind of high powered dremel saw that sported a blade that shone like silver. He started it up and let the blade roar into her back.

Shamira screamed as her captor dug into her spine. She screamed and moaned like the broken soul she had become. She screamed until she could no longer feel anything. She screamed until the world finally and thankfully went black.

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To be continued . . .