“Meggie, I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“Are you alone?”

There was a brief pause before Shirl said, “Of course I’m alone.”

A peek through the peephole showed that Shirl was lying. A tall man clad in a dark green shirt, brown pants, and boots stood off to the side.

“Villagrande.” The name whispered past Megan’s lips. According to Rhys, Villagrande was the oldest vampire in the world. What was he doing here?

“Indeed.” His voice was deep, tinged with an accent Megan didn’t recognize

She took a step backward, discomfited by the knowledge that he had heard her murmur his name. Taking a deep breath, she looked through the peephole again, watched as he reached for the door handle. What was he doing? He couldn’t enter without an invitation. Could he? Maybe the rules no longer applied when a vampire was as old as he was.

She waited, hardly daring to breathe, as his hand curled around the doorknob.

There was a flash of bright white light, a crackle like static electricity, followed by a sharp curse from Villagrande.

Megan recoiled. And then she grinned. It was obvious that whatever magical whammy Erik Delacourt had placed around her house was working perfectly.

Her grin faded as quickly as it had come. Rhys would be arriving soon to take her to work. What would happen if he showed up while Villagrande was still there? Would they battle it out on her front porch?

When she looked through the peephole again, Shirl and Villagrande were nowhere to be seen.

Rhys swore softly when Megan told him what had happened with Shirl earlier that evening.

“Why do you think he came here?” It was a question she was reluctant to ask because she was sure she wouldn’t like the answer.

“Could be a lot of reasons,” Rhys said. “Maybe he just wanted to see where you live. Maybe he was looking for me.”

“You left out the most logical reason,” Megan said. “That he wanted to use me to get to you.”

Rhys nodded. He hadn’t wanted to suggest that, but he should have known Megan was smart enough to reach that conclusion on her own. Just as surely as there was crap and corruption in Washington, he was sure that had been Villagrande’s motive.

“At least Erik’s magick spell worked,” Megan said, looking on the bright side. “You should have seen the way Villagrande jumped when he tried to open the door. It was almost comical.”

“Yeah. Sorry I missed that.”

“Where did you spend the day?” she asked, unable to stay her curiosity any longer.

“At my club.”

“Why didn’t you stay here?”

The wary look in his eyes warned her not to pursue the subject, making her think she had guessed right earlier. He didn’t want her to see him when he was at rest. But why?

“So,” she asked, going back to their original conversation, “what do we do now?” She tried to keep her voice even, but she wasn’t completely successful.

Rhys was tempted to take Megan to his lair, but in the long run, he thought she would be safer here. He was about to tell her so when his cell rang. He answered it with a curt, “What?”

“It’s me,” Rupert said, his voice equally curt. “The meeting house is on fire. I’m afraid Adams didn’t make it out. I think he was the only casualty.”

“Where are you now?”

“We scattered. I’m in Phoenix. I don’t know where the others have gone.”

Rhys swore softly. He had told the Council to stay together, thinking there would be safety in numbers. He didn’t often make mistakes, but he’d miscalculated badly this time.

“I want you to get in touch with the others,” Rhys said. “Tell them to head for the Midwest. When you get there, get in touch with Volger. Tell him I’m calling in the favor he owes me.”

“Volger, right. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. Just do as I say. I’ll be in touch.” Rhys disconnected the call without waiting for a reply.

“What is it?” Megan asked. “What’s happened?”

“Villagrande burned down a house I own. One of my vampires was destroyed in the blaze.”

“I’m so sorry.” Shivering, Megan wrapped her arms around her waist. Being burned alive had to be the most horrible way to die. Thinking about the vampire who had perished in the fire brought back the horror of the inferno at Drexel’s concert and reminded her of how lucky she was to still be alive.

“I need to go check out the house,” Rhys said. “Make sure Adams was the only casualty.”

Megan looked up at him, her gaze searching his face. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Probably not, but I’m going anyway. You stay here. Keep the door locked. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t let anyone but me inside.”

“Be careful.”

He kissed her, hard and quick, and then he was gone amidst a flurry of sparkling silver motes.

Megan shook her head. Just when she thought she had seen all his spooky tricks, he did something totally unexpected.

Rhys materialized at the end of the street. The fire department was still at the scene. The acrid stink of burnt wood and smoke hung heavy in the air, along with a smell that Rhys recognized as vampire remains.

He made his way closer to the house, mingling with a handful of curious neighbors. Standing there, he listened to the conversations around him.

“We never saw anybody in the house,” a man remarked to one of the firemen. “And we never saw any lights….”

“Yes, we did,” the woman said. “But it flickered, you know, like candlelight.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” the man agreed, as if it wasn’t very important. “We never saw anybody around during the day, though. If it wasn’t for the cars we saw parked in the driveway now and then, and the fact that a gardener came to mow the lawn, we would have thought the house was haunted….”

“Wonder how it started…”

“I never saw a house go up so fast,” muttered a tall, dark-haired man clad in gray sweatpants. “You’d have thought it was made out of flash paper. Strangest thing I’ve ever seen.”

A woman holding a baby nodded. “Whoosh!” she said. “Just like that, it was gone.”

“I heard a scream,” said an elderly woman in a bright pink bathrobe. “It was horrible. Gave me the shivers, it did.”

When the firemen started packing up, Rhys went around to the back of the house. Closing his eyes, he opened his senses. Adams had died in the hallway. There was no way to tell if Adams had been destroyed by Villagrande or by the flames, but he was the only casualty. Villagrande’s scent was strong here in the backyard. And Shirl’s, too. Had she participated in starting the fire, or had she merely been an observer? Not that it mattered. As far as Rhys was concerned, she was equally culpable in Adams’s destruction.

Sifting through the ashes, he found himself wondering what type of incendiary material Villagrande had used to start the fire. It was obvious that the blaze had burned hot and fast. The only thing left intact was a small portion of the brick fireplace. Rhys muttered an oath as he dusted off his hands. Either someone had stolen the sword he had kept over the fireplace, or it, too, had perished in the blaze.

“What happened?”

Rhys slid a glance at the vampire who had materialized beside him. “Villagrande happened.”

Erik’s gaze swept over what was left of the house. “He’s not fooling around, is he?”

“How’d you know I was here?”

“We went by Megan’s. She wouldn’t let us in, and she wouldn’t talk to us. I left Daisy there to keep watch while I followed your scent here.”

“One of my vampires perished in the fire. That’s three of mine he’s destroyed.”

“He’s going to keep pushing until you quit the field or you agree to meet with him.”

“He was at Megan’s earlier tonight. Shirl tried to get her to open the door.”

“He plays dirty, Rhys. You know that.”

Rhys nodded. Foolish as it seemed, he had expected better from the oldest vampire in the world. Then again, maybe playing dirty was how you survived long enough to become the oldest vampire in the world.

“You know you can’t beat him on your own,” Erik said quietly.

“We’ve already had this discussion,” Rhys said curtly. “There’s nothing more to be done here. I’m going back to Megan’s.”

Without waiting for a reply, he dissolved into mist.

Erik was right behind him.

Daisy was waiting for them on the front porch of Megan’s house. Erik kissed his wife on the cheek while Rhys knocked on the door.

When there was no reply, Rhys called, “Megan, it’s me. Open up.”

“How do I know it’s you?”

Hearing the teasing tone of her voice, he said, “I could tell you how many times we made love last night.”

Soft laughter rose in the air as she unlocked the door. “Is nothing sacred?”

“Not much.” Rhys stepped into the entryway, followed by Daisy and Delacourt. Erik locked the door behind them.

Rhys took Megan in his arms. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Did you find any more…anyone else?”

“No. Adams was the only fatality.”

“What are we going to do now?”

Rhys kissed the tip of her nose. “We aren’t going to do anything. This is between me and Villagrande and no one else.”

“How can you say that?” Megan exclaimed. “Shirl and Villagrande were both here, trying to get in. I’m pretty sure they weren’t just stopping by for a cup of coffee. I mean, Shirl lied to me!”

“She’s got a point,” Erik said.

“A darn good one, I’d say,” Daisy added.

With a shake of his head, Rhys pulled Megan into his arms. “All right, you foolish woman. What do you think we ought to do?”