O parallel-parked in front of the towering apartment building. The monolithic eyesore was one of Caldwell's high-rise, luxe setups, an attempt by some developers to turn the riverbank around. C's apartment was on the twenty-sixth floor facing the water.

Pretentious. Seriously pretentious.

Most lessers lived in shitholes because the Society believed in putting its money where its war was. C got away with the flashy style because he could afford it. He'd been a trustafarian before he'd joined in the seventies, and he'd somehow kept his money. The guy was an unusual combination: a dilettante with serial-killer tendencies.

As it was after ten there was no doorman, and picking the electronic lock on the lobby door was the work of a moment. O took the steel-and-glass elevator to the twenty-seventh floor and walked down one flight of stairs, more out of habit than necessity. There was no reason to think anyone would give a crap who he was or where he was going. Besides, the building was a ghost town this time of night, the Euro-trash residents out doing Ecstasy and coke at Zero Sum downtown.

He knocked on C's door.

This was the fifth address he'd visited on Mr. X's list of unaccounted-for members and the first of tonight's forays. The evening before, he'd had good success. One of the slayers had been out of state, having decided on his own to help out a buddy in D.C. Two of the AWOLs, who were roommates, had been injured from getting into a fight with each other; they were healing up and would be back online within a couple of days. The final lesser had been a perfectly healthy SOB who'd just been watching the tube and lying around. Well, perfectly healthy, that was, until he'd sustained an unfortunate accident as O was leaving. It would be a good week before he was up and running again, but the visit had certainly clarified his priorities.

Funny how a couple of cracked kneecaps could do that to a guy.

O knocked again on C's door and then picked the lock. When he opened the door, he recoiled. Oh, shit. The place smelled bad. Like rotting garbage.

He headed for the kitchen.

No, that wasn't trash. That was C.

The lesser was facedown on the floor, a dried pool of black blood around him. Within reach of his hand, there were some bandages and a needle and thread, as if he'd tried to fix himself up. Next to the first-aid stuff was his BlackBerry and the keypad was covered with his blood. A woman's purse, also stained, sat on the other side of him.

O rolled C over. The slayer's neck had been slashed, a good deep cut. And given the way the skin had been cauterized, the slice had been made by one of the Brotherhood's nasty black daggers. Man, whatever they had in that metal was like battery acid on a lesser wound.

C's throat was working, kicking out guttural sounds, proving that you could in fact be a little bit dead. When he brought up his hand, there was a knife in it. A few shallow cuts marked his shirt, as if he'd tried to stab himself in the chest but had lacked the strength to get the job done.

"You're in bad shape, my man," O said, taking the blade away. He sat back on his heels, watching the guy flail around in slow motion. Lying on his back like that, arms and legs moving uselessly, he was like a June bug about to give up the ghost

O glanced at the purse.

"You taking up an alternative lifestyle, C?" He picked the thing up and went through the contents. Bottle of medicine. Tissues. Tampon. Cell phone.

Hello, wallet.

He took out the driver's license. Brown hair. Gray eyes. Impossible to tell whether the female was a vampire or a human. Address was out Route 22 in the sticks.

"Tell me if I get this right," O said. "You and one of those brothers went head-to-head. The warrior had a female with him. You escaped after being knifed and took this purse so you could finish the job on the male's lady friend. Trouble was, your wounds were too severe and you've been lying here ever since you got home. How'm I doing?"

O tossed the wallet into the bag and looked down at the man. C's eyes were rolling around, loose marbles in his deflating bag of a head.

"You know, C, if it were up to me, I'd just leave you here. I don't know if you're aware of this, but when we poof it out of existence, we go back to the Omega. Believe me, what you're going to find on the other side with him is going to make the way you feel now seem like a fucking vacation." O looked around. "Unfortunately, you're stinking up the place. Some human's going to come in, and then we've got us a problem."

O picked up the knife, gripping the handle hard. As he lifted it above his shoulder, C's relief brought all those body struggles to a standstill.

"You really shouldn't feel better about this," O said softly.

He sank the blade into the lesser's chest. There was a flash of light and a popping sound. And C was gone.

O picked up the purse and headed out.

Mary walked over to Rhage, keeping her hand behind her back while she waited for the right moment. He was in the middle of a game of pool, he and Butch beating the tar out of V and Phury.

As she watched them play, she decided she really liked the brothers. Even Zsadist, with all his brooding. They were so good to her, treating her with a kind of respect and reverence she wasn't sure what she'd done to deserve.

Rhage winked at her as he leaned over the table and lined up his stick.

"It's the way you care for him," someone said in her ear.

She jerked in her shoes. Vishous was right behind her.

"What are you talking about?"

"That's why we adore you. And before you tell me to quit reading your mind, I didn't mean to catch the thought. It was just too loud to tune out." The vampire took a swallow from a squat glass of vodka. "But that's why we accept you. When you treat him well, you honor each one of us."

Rhage looked up and frowned. As soon as he took his shot, he came around the table to her and pointedly nudged V out of the way with his body.

Vishous laughed. "Relax, Hollywood. She's only got eyes for you."

Rhage grunted and tucked her into his side. "You just remember that and your arms and legs will stay right where they are."

"You know, you were never the possessive type before."

"That's because I never had something I wanted to keep. You're up at the table, my brother."

As V put his drink down and got serious about the game, Mary stuck her hand out. From her fingertips, a cherry dangled.

"I want to see your other trick," she said. "You told me you could do something great with your tongue and a cherry stem."

He laughed. "Come on¡ª"

"What? No trick?"

His smile was slow. "You just watch my mouth go to work, female."

Looking at her from under hooded lids, Rhage bent down to her hand. His tongue came out and captured the cherry, pulling it between his lips. He chewed and then shook his head as he swallowed.

"Not quite there," he murmured.

"What?"

"Your secrets are so much sweeter."

Flushing, she covered her eyes with her hand.

Oh, sure. Now he wants to get sexy, she thought.

As she took a deep breath, she caught the erotic, dark fragrance he threw off whenever he wanted to be inside her. She lifted her hand and peeked at him.

He was staring at her with total absorption. And the centers of his eyes were as white and gleaming as fresh snow.

Mary stopped breathing.

Something else is in there, she thought. There was... something else looking through his stare at her.

Phury came up, smiling. "Go get a room, Hollywood, if you're going to be like this. The rest of us don't need to be reminded of all you have."

He clapped his palm on Rhage's shoulder.

Rhage wheeled around and snapped at his brother's hand with his teeth. The sound of his jaws clamping shut was loud enough to suck the conversation out of the room.

Phury leaped back, yanking his arm away. "Jesus Christ, Rhage! What's your¡ªShit. Your eyes, man. They've turned."

Rhage paled and then stumbled away, squinting and blinking. "I'm sorry. Hell, Phury, I didn't even know I was¡ª"

All around the room, the men put down whatever was in their hands and came at him, circling him.

"How close are you to the change?" Phury asked.

"Clear the females out," someone commanded, "Get them upstairs."

As the sound of people leaving filled the air, Vishous squeezed Mary's arm. "Come with me."

"No." She struggled. "Stop it. I want to stay with him."

Rhage glanced over at her, and immediately that odd, fixated look came back. Then his white eyes shifted to Vishous. Rhage's lips pared off his teeth and he growled, loud as a lion.

"V, man, let go of her. Right now," Phury said.

Vishous dropped his hold, but whispered to her, "You need to get out of here."

Screw that, she thought.

"Rhage?" she said softly. "Rhage, what's going on?"

He shook his head and broke their eye contact, backing himself up against the marble fireplace. Sweat gleamed on his face as he grabbed on to the stone, and he strained as if he were trying to lift the whole damn mantelpiece off the wall.

Time slowed to a crawl as he battled with himself, chest pumping, arms and legs trembling. It was a long while before he sagged and the tension left his body. Whatever the fight had been, he'd won. But not by much.

As he looked up, his eyes were back to normal, but he was pasty as hell.

"I'm sorry, my brothers," he mumbled. Then he glanced at her and opened his mouth. Instead of speaking, he hung his head as if ashamed.

Mary walked through the barrier of male bodies and put her hands on his face.

As he gasped in surprise, she kissed him on the mouth. "Let's see the cherry thing. Come on."

The men standing around them were stunned; she could feel it in their stares. Rhage was shaken, too. But when she just looked at him pointedly, he started chewing, working the stem over with his teeth.

She glanced back at the warriors. "He's tine. We're fine. Go back to doing whatever, okay? He needs a minute, and all you guys staring at him like this isn't helping."

Phury laughed a little and walked over to the pool table. "You know, she's fabulous."

V picked up his cue and his glass. "Yeah. True."

As the party resumed, and Bella and Wellsie came back, Mary stroked Rhage's face and neck. He seemed to have trouble looking her in the eye.

"Are you okay?" she said softly.

"I'm so sorry¡ª"

"Cut out the sorry bit. Whatever that is, you can't help it, right?"

He nodded.

"So there's no sorry."

She wanted to know what had just happened, but not here, not now. Sometimes, pretending to be normal was the very best antidote to weirdness. Fake-it-until-you-make-it was more than psychobabble bullshit.

"Mary, I don't want you to fear me."

For a moment, she watched his mouth and jaw work the stem.

"I'm not afraid. V and Phury might have been in a little trouble, but you wouldn't have hurt me. No way. I'm not sure how I know that, I just do."

He took a deep breath. "God, I love you. I really, really love you."

And then he smiled.

She laughed in a loud crack that brought every head in the room around.

The cherry stem was tied neatly around one of his fangs.