The world blinked. Magic flooded us like an invisible tsunami. The neon sign above the restaurant withered and a larger brilliant blue sign ignited above it, made from handblown glass and filled with charged air.

I reached over and squeezed Curran's hand. "Come on, you, me, a platter of barely seared meat, it will be great. If we see the navigators, we can make fun of the way they hold their forks."

We got out of the car and headed inside. The bloodsuckers glanced at us in unison, their eyes like two smoldering coals buried beneath the ash of a dying fire. I felt their minds, twin hot pinpoints of pain, clenched securely by the navigators' wills. One slip up and those coals would ignite into an all consuming flame. Vampires never knew satiation. They never got full, they never stopped killing, and if let loose, they would drown the world in blood and die of starvation when there was nothing left to kill.

The chains wouldn't hold them - the links were an eighth of an inch thick at best. A chain like that would restrain a large dog. A vamp would snap it and not even notice, but general public felt better if the bloodsuckers were chained, and so the navigators obliged.

We passed the vampires and entered the restaurant.

The inside of Arirang was dim. Feylanterns glowed with soft light on the walls, as the charged air inside their colored glass tubes reacted with magic. Each feylantern had been hand-blown into a beautiful shape: a bright blue dragon, an emerald tortoise, a purple fish, a turquoise stocky dog with a unicorn horn... Booths lined the walls, their tables plain rectangles of wood. In the center of the floor four larger round tables sported built-in charcoal grills under metal hoods.

The restaurant was about half full. There were two couples in booths on the right: the first was occupied by two middle aged men and the second was a dark-haired man and a blond woman in their twenties. The younger couple chatted quietly. Good clothes, relaxed, casual, well groomed. Ten to one these were the navigators who had parked the bloodsuckers out front. The Casino had seven Masters of the Dead and I knew them by sight. I didn't recognize either the man or the woman. Either visiting or upper level journeymen.

Both of the older guys in the next booth were armed. The closer one carried a short sword, which he put on the seat next to him. As his friend reached for the salt shaker, his sweatshirt hugged a gun in the side holster.

Past them in the far right corner, four women in their thirties laughed too loud - probably tipsy. On the other side a family with two teenage daughters cooked their food on the grill. The older girl looked a bit like Julie. Two business women, another family with a toddler, and an older couple rounded off the patrons. No threats.

The air swirled with delicious aroma of meat cooked over open fire, sautéed garlic, sweet spice. My mouth watered. I hadn't eaten since grabbing some bread this morning from a street vendor. My stomach actually hurt.

A waiter in a plain black pants and a black T-shirt led us to a table in the middle of the floor. Curran and I took chairs opposite one another- I could see the back door and he had a nice view of the front entrance. We ordered hot tea. Thirty seconds later it arrived with a plate of pot stickers.

"Hungry?" Curran asked.

"Starving."

"Combination platter for four," Curran ordered.

His hungry and my hungry were two different things.

The waiter departed. Curran smiled. It was a happy genuine smile and it catapulted him from attractive into irresistible territory. He didn't smile very often in public. That intimate smile was usually reserved for private moments when we were alone.

I reached over, pulled the band off my braid, and slid my fingers through it, unraveling the hair. Curran's gaze snagged on my hands. He focused on my fingers like a cat on a piece of foil pulled by a string. I shook my head and my hair fell over my shoulders in a long dark wave. There we go. Now we were both private in public.

Tiny gold sparks danced in Curran's grey irises. He was thinking dirty thoughts and the wicked edge in his smile made me want to slide next to him and touch him.

We had to wait. I was pretty sure that having hot sex on the floor of Arirang would get us banned for life. Then again, it might be worth it..

I raised my tea in a salute. "To our date."

He raised his cup and we clinked them gently against each other.

"So how was your day?" he asked.

"First, I chased a giant jellyfish around through some suburbs. Then I argued with Biohazard about coming and picking it up, because they claimed it was a Fish and Game issue. Then I called Fish and Game and conferenced them into the Biohazard, and then I got to listen to the two of them argue and call each other names. They got really creative. Also the Mercenary Guild is having some sort of arbitration to decide who's in charge and apparently Jim think that I'm supposed to break that tie. Because I am a veteran and the Consort, and the Pack apparently owns some percentage of the Mercenary Guild."

"Not looking forward to it?"

"I'd rather eat dirt. It's between Mark and the veterans led by the Four Horsemen, and they despise each other. They're aren't interested in reaching a consensus. They just want to throw mud at each other over a conference table."

An evil light sparked in his eyes. "You could always go for Plan B."

"Pound everyone to a bloody pulp until they shut up and cooperate?"

"Exactly."

It would make me feel better. "I could always do it your way instead."

Curran raised his blond eyebrows.

"Roar until everyone pees themselves."

A shadow of self-satisfaction flickered on his face and vanished, replaced by innocence. "That's bullshit. I'm perfectly reasonable and I almost never roar. I don't even remember what it feels like to knock some heads together."

The Beast Lord of Atlanta, a gentle and enlightened monarch. "How progressive of you, Your Majesty."

He cracked another grin.

The male necromancer in the booth next to us reached under the table and produced a rectangular rosewood box. Ten to one, there was some sort of jewelry inside.

"Your turn. How did your day go?"

"It was busy and full of stupid shit I didn't want to deal with." Curran drank his tea.

The blond woman opened the box. Her eyes lit up.

"The rats are having some sort of internal dispute over some apartments they bought. Took all day to untangle it. "

The woman plucked a golden necklace from the box. Shaped like an inch and a half segmented collar of pale gold, it gleamed in the feylanthern light.

I poured us more tea. "But you prevailed."

"Of course." He drank his tea. "You know, we could stay over in the city tonight."

"Why?"

"Because that way we wouldn't have to drive for an hour back to the Keep before we could fool around."

Heh.

A scream jerked me off my feet. In the booth, the blond necromancer clawed at the necklace, gasping for breath. The man stared at her, his face a terrified mask. The woman raked her neck, gouging flesh. With a dried pop, her neck snapped, and she crashed to the floor. The man dove down, pulling at the necklace. "Amanda! Oh my god!"

Past him two pairs of red vampire eyes stared at us through the window.

Oh crap. I pulled Slayer from the sheath on my back. Sensing undead, the pale blade of the enchanted saber perspired, sending wisps of white vapor into the air.

The dull carmine glow of vampire irises flared into vivid scarlet. Shit. The restaurant just updated its menu with fresh human.

Flesh boiled on Curran's arms. Bone grew, muscle twisted like slick ropes, skin clenched the new flesh and sprouted fur, and enormous claws slid from Curran's newly thickened fingers.

The vampires rose off their haunches.

Curran stood up next to me.

I gripped the hilt, feeling the familiar comforting texture. Bloodsuckers reacted to sudden movement, bright lights, loud noises, anything that telegraphed prey. Whatever I did had to be fast and flashy. The blood alone wouldn't do it, not when every table was filled with raw meat.

The window exploded in a cascade of gleaming shards. The vampires sailed through, like they had wings. The left bloodsucker landed on the table, the remnant of the chain hanging from its neck. The right skidded on the slick parquet floor and bumped into another table, scattering the chairs.

I dashed to the left, pulling Slayer as I sprinted. Curran snarled and leaped, covering half the distance to the right bloodsucker in a single powerful jump.

The vamp glared at me. I looked into its eyes.

Hunger.

Like staring into an ancient abyss. Behind the eyes, its mind burned, free of the chain. I wanted to reach out and crush it, like a bug between my fingernails. But doing that would give me away. I might as well give the People a sample of my blood with a pretty bow on it.

I flicked my wrist, making the reflection of feylanterns dance along Slayer's surface. Look. Shiny.

The bloodsucker's gaze locked on the blade. The vamp ducked down, like a dog before the strike, front limbs wide, yellow claws digging into the table. The wood groaned. The chain slipped along the table's edge, clinking.

No way for a neck cut. The chain loop would block the blade.

A high pitched, female scream slashed my eardrums. The vamp hissed, jerking in the direction of the sound.

I jumped on the chair next to the table and thrust sideways and up. Slayer's blade slid between the vamp ribs. The tip met a tight resistance and sliced through it. Hit the heart. Banzai.

The bloodsucker screeched. I let go of the saber. The vamp reared, the Slayer up to the hilt in its rib cage. The undead staggered, pitched over, and crashed to the floor, flopping like a fish on dry land.

To the left, Curran thrust his claws through the flesh under his vamp's shin. The bloody tips of the claws emerged from the back of the bloodsucker's neck. The vamp clawed at him. Curran thrust his monstrous hand deeper, clenched the vamp's neck and tore its head off the body.

Showoff.

He tossed the head aside and glanced at me, checking. The whole thing took about five seconds. Felt like an eternity. We were both in one piece. I exhaled.