Abigail drew in a deep, steadying breath. "How's Dolly?"

"Still asleep. It's the strangest thing."

"Yes, it is." Abigail couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, Mr. Holstein had caused Dolly's sleep. With her scientific training, she naturally discounted the existence of vampires, but even she had to admit the circumstantial evidence was piling up. No reflection in the mirror, possible psychic power, heightened senses, pale skin, pointed canine teeth, and something unusual about his eyes. Then there was his aura of power and mystery. "I never thought I'd say this, but you might be right."

"Really?" Madison grinned, then looked confused. "About what?"

"Dad's secret meeting with the Undead." Abigail glanced toward the Oval Office. "Mr. Holstein . . ."

"You really think he's a vampire?"

"I'm not totally convinced vampires are real. I'll have to study this further." Study him further.

Madison grinned and grabbed hold of Abigail's arm. "Can I help? I love vampires!"

Abigail winced. "Don't say that! I don't care if Mr. Holstein is the most handsome and charming man on earth. If he's a vampire, then loving him would be the height of folly."

Madison rolled her eyes. "Chill, Abby." She brushed her hair back over her shoulders. "I didn't think he was all that handsome and charming."

"Are you crazy?" Abigail bit her lip. Damn. Gregori Holstein had better be human.

Chapter Seven

Shit. Gregori clenched his fists, then forced his hands to relax. He'd completely screwed up. He was supposed to convince the guys in power that he, along with every other modern-day Vamp, was safe and harmless. But he'd just asked Abigail Tucker if she thought he was frightening.

She'd given him several opportunities to deny he was a vampire. He should have said he didn't believe in such nonsense. After all, it was also his mission to make sure only a small group of mortals knew that vampires actually existed. And that small group did not include Abigail.

Dammit, he should have played it safe. He should have acted aloof. As if he couldn't hear her heart racing every time she came near him. As if his heart wasn't racing, too.

He should have looked her in the face and lied.

Why hadn't he? It wasn't like he was a stickler for honesty and honor like the old Vamps. He could have lied to Madison without giving it a second thought. This was business, and he had a job to do. Thousands of Vamps were depending on him.

So why did he screw up? What was it about her?

As usual, he didn't let his frustration show. He entered the Oval Office with a smile, playing the charming diplomat while Sean Whelan made the introductions: Secretary of Defense George Ralston; National Security Advisor Frank Garcia; chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General Bond; CIA director Nick Caprese; head of Homeland Security Alan Schiller; and the president, Laurence Tucker.

Their smiles were as false as his own, Gregori thought. There was no disguising the wary glint of suspicion in their eyes. Nor the implied warning that came with the steely grip of their handshakes. They were sizing him up as a potential threat to the American people.

The president took a seat at the end of a coffee table in the chair closest to his desk. Sean Whelan motioned for Gregori to take the chair at the other end of the coffee table, then he and the remaining men squeezed onto the two long sofas that flanked the table.

President Tucker gestured to an ice bucket perched on a metal stand next to him. "We provided you with some refreshment. Help yourself."

Gregori glanced at the bottle of synthetic blood resting in ice. "Thank you, but I'm not really hungry."

Sean cleared his throat and rolled his eyes toward the bottle.

They wanted to see him drink blood? Gregori grabbed the bottle and unscrewed the top. "A little would be nice. Thank you." He took a sip and carefully refrained from grimacing at the taste of cold blood.

The mortal men stared at him like he was a circus freak.

"I was informed three nights ago of the existence of vampires," President Tucker began. "Mr. Caprese tells me the CIA has been aware of your kind for over six years."

The CIA director nodded. "It was our agent, Mr. Whelan, who first brought your species to our attention when he was stationed in St. Petersburg. Since your kind exists all over the inhabited world, we've always felt the Agency is best equipped for keeping track of you. Mr. Whelan's Stake-Out team has given us a lot of valuable information."

"I see." Gregori wondered just how surprised Caprese would be if he knew Sean Whelan was now Undead.

"Of course we've always shared any national developments with Homeland Security to make sure our citizens are protected," Caprese continued. "We've also been monitoring the Digital Vampire Network. Your Nightly News program keeps us well-informed." He gave Gregori a smug look. "You've made our job easy."

Gregori took another sip of blood and remained quiet.

President Tucker leaned forward, studying him. "Mr. Whelan tells us the vampire community has selected you as their representative. Is that true? Do you admit to being a vampire, Mr. Holstein?"

Gregori glanced at the Secret Service man at the door. There were two more outside. Had they been told to attack if he confessed? Was Abigail still outside, hoping to confirm her suspicions?

A chill tickled the back of his neck. He'd never confessed to a mortal before, and the words were surprisingly hard to force out. He knew the second he did, his life would never be the same.

He was tempted to say no, it was all a hoax, but there were too many people who believed the stupid video. It wouldn't take long before the Buffy wannabes started hunting. And if they videotaped themselves in the act of staking a vampire with the poor Vamp turning to dust, it would fuel the fire. More vampire hunters. More death.

The Vampire Apocalypse.

The Vamps needed the government to declare the video a hoax. Here goes Plan A.

He shifted in his chair. "Yes, I'm a vampire, but I can assure you that I'm not dangerous. My fellow Vamps and I are morally opposed to causing mortals any harm."

He glanced toward the Secret Service man, but the guy didn't budge. No one moved. They sat still, staring at him.

Even the president seemed speechless. He might be called the Torpedo, but as far as Gregori could tell, that honor belonged to his daughter. Abigail Tucker had completely blown him out of the water.

Since the night before, he'd come up with a few reasons why a president's daughter would hide from the spotlight. It could be the president who wanted her hidden. If she had a history of crime or drug abuse, he wouldn't want the media to know. If she was suffering from a mental disorder, he might keep her locked up in the proverbial attic. Or maybe she was simply an embarrassment. A few tacos short of a combination plate. Or too ugly. Or too shy.

Shy? What a laugh. She'd marched right up to him and let him have it. Who are you? What do you want?

Mentally challenged? Ha! She was a scientist. A Ph.D. And she looked only about twenty-five. The girl was obviously brilliant.

And beautiful. Not in the skinny, carefully crafted superstar look that her sister Madison had mastered. Abigail was a little shorter, a little more curvy, and a hell of a lot more exciting. She was different. And real.

At first he'd thought she had pretty hazel eyes and curly brown hair. But when she drew closer and more into the light, he'd become fascinated with the subtle changes in her appearance. Flecks of gold and green glimmered in eyes that were big and beautiful without makeup. Her pink mouth was sweetly sculpted, her lovely face so expressive.

Across the room, her curls had seemed sweetly innocent, but close up, they looked wild and soft to touch. He'd noted a glint of dark auburn in her chin-length hair and a pale smattering of freckles over her sharp little nose.

There was a fire in her just waiting to be lit.

And like a fool, he'd completely screwed up. He'd been so focused on her, he'd forgotten about the stupid mirror.

Sean Whelan cleared his throat and nudged Gregori with his foot, forcing him back to the present.

The men in power were grumbling among themselves. Gregori didn't need super hearing to realize they were busy determining his future and the future of vampires around the world. As if they had the right to decide who was worth saving. He took another sip of cold blood to cool the frustration simmering inside him.

"So what if they drink from bottles now?" the national security advisor asked. "They must have fed off humans for centuries. I don't see how we could ever trust them."

"Exactly," the director of Homeland Security agreed. "I don't believe for a second that they're harmless, not when I know some people in South Dakota and Nebraska were murdered by vampires."

"It's true they could present a serious threat," CIA director Caprese said. "But if we ally ourselves with them, we could direct that threat at our enemies."

Gregori sipped more blood. Plan A was already falling apart. No big surprise there. But Plan B might succeed.

"This all sounds ridiculous to me." General Bond glared at Gregori, then at the CIA director. "How come you didn't tell me about this sooner? You wait till tonight to show me a weird-assed video, and you expect me to believe it? It's bullshit!"

"I understand how you feel," President Tucker told the general in a conciliatory tone. "I was skeptical, too, when I first saw the video."

"Excuse me, General," Sean Whelan cut in. "As head of the CIA Stake-Out team, I can confirm the existence of vampires. I've been studying them for six years."

"So you say," the general muttered. "But where's the proof? Have you killed any of these so-called vampires?"

"I can't bring you a head to mount on your wall," Sean said. "They turn to dust when they die."

"Really?" General Bond gave Gregori a speculative look as if he were contemplating testing Sean's claim.

Gregori stuffed the bottle back into the ice bucket. "If you don't believe me, fine. Maybe a lot of people will refuse to believe it. We can spread the word ourselves that it's all a hoax, so I won't waste any more of your time." He stood.

"Wait." The president raised a hand. "We still have much to discuss. Please have a seat, Mr. Holstein."

Gregori hesitated.

"Already two of the major networks have examined the video and declared it authentic," President Tucker continued. "We estimate over forty percent of the public now believes, and that number is growing daily. To be blunt, Mr. Holstein, you need our help. We are prepared to discuss a mutually beneficial alliance with your kind."

Gregori sat down. Here goes Plan B. "We will gladly consider an alliance. We already have one with the British government."

A bunch of jaws dropped. Gregori ignored Sean's fierce scowl and proceeded to tell the other men about MacKay Security and Investigation and how Angus MacKay had come to the rescue during World War II.

"I'll have to verify that information," Caprese said.

"Of course." Gregori leaned forward, focused on the president. "Before we agree to an alliance, I need to know that you're willing to declare the video a fraud and denounce the existence of vampires."

"We will certainly consider it," the president said.

"Easy to do," the general muttered, "since it's all a bunch of bullshit. No one here has given me any proof."

CIA director Caprese sighed. "I told you we've been monitoring the Digital Vampire Network - "

"Which could be produced by a bunch of loons who are either crazy or acting," General Bond interrupted. "Just because someone claims to be a vampire on television, doesn't mean it's true."

Gregori tamped down on his frustration. How could he succeed with Plan B when the general wouldn't even agree that vampires existed?

"Show him your fangs," Sean Whelan whispered.

Gregori shot him an annoyed look. Show him yours. With an inward groan, he opened his mouth.

The secretary of defense sat back. "Those do look awfully sharp."

"And pointed," the national security advisor added.

Homeland Security director Schiller shook his head. "Those teeth aren't long enough to pierce a hot dog, much less someone's neck."

"The fangs elongate before they bite something," Sean explained, then turned to Gregori. "Go ahead, show them."

He gritted his teeth. Sean was such a newbie, he didn't know a vampire needed some motivation to get his fangs to shoot out. Hunger. A beautiful woman. Hot sex. There was none of that here. Just a group of stodgy old men who expected him to perform tricks like a well-trained dog.

"What's taking you so long?" The general smirked. "Are your fangs rusty?"

"We don't use them much anymore." Gregori motioned toward the ice bucket. "We drink our meals from bottles."

General Bond crossed his arms with a dubious look.

"He speaks the truth," Sean added. "The modern-day Vamp no longer feeds off humans. They're completely safe and harmless."

Instead of looking relieved, the men eyed him with a mixture of suspicion and disdain. Gregori fisted his hands again, wishing he had a stress ball he could explode. Sean was still trying to make Plan A work, but he'd suspected from the beginning that the safe-and-harmless routine was doomed to failure. Worse than failure, for it made Vamps look like incompetent wimps. Maybe some nice sharp fangs would garner him some respect. He closed his eyes to envision a beautiful woman. Simone. Inga. All the beautiful Vamp women he'd dated over the years.