I first realized who it was when I saw the cascade of black waves blowing in the chill Minnesota wind - our front door was still open. The body lying face-down beneath that hair did not move.

Tina was lifting one pale hand, checking for a pulse. Garrett was holding the other.

"Why isn't she getting up?" I asked, rushing to Tina's side. "What kind of bullets were these? Were they silver?"

"They didn't have to be silver," Tina guessed as she examined Antonia's body. She knew more about guns than anyone I'd ever met. "Twenty-two longs, as he said, quite perfect for the job. They ricocheted around her skull but didn't exit. That particular ammunition lowers the innocent bystander rate. He may have expected civilians - or perhaps Detective Berry - to be near you when he shot you."

"But she's a werewolf!" I shook Sinclair's comforting hand off my shoulder.

Tina looked up at me, eyes almost black with sympathy. "Her brains are all over the floor, Majesty. There will be no coming back from this."

I barely noticed Garrett get up and slip out of view.

"But she - she's Antonia!" Foulmouthed and smart and strong and invulnerable. And alive - always so vibrantly, shockingly alive. "She can't be - I mean, shot? It's such a mundane way for someone like her to - "

"No." Jessica staggered as if the shock was going to knock her on her ass, and Nick steadied her. "No, she can't be. You're wrong. She's not."

And the worst part was - "She jumped in front of me. She - saved me."

"Everybody saves you," Nick said neutrally. He tried to slip his arm around a sobbing Jessica, but she knocked it away.

Then we heard the splintering crash come from the stairwell.

I stood, trembling at the subsequent silence, and peered into the foyer. I choked back a sob at what Garrett had done to himself.

The regretful Fiend-turned-vampire had kicked the banister off a stretch of curved stairs in the foyer, leaving a dozen or so of the rails exposed and pointing up like spears. Then he had climbed to the second floor to a spot overlooking the stairs and swan dived onto the rails, which had gone through him like teeth.

"See?" the Ant said sadly as we stared down at the second body of a friend in less than a minute. "I warned you."

"Yeah, well." I wiped my face. "You could have been a lot more specific."

"I didn't know exactly. But I had a feeling. This stuff is pretty inevitable around you."

"Please go away."

"Yes, I think so. You wouldn't believe how depressing all this is. Good-bye, for now." And like that, she was gone.

"We'll take care of the bodies," my husband told me quietly.

Jessica kicked the wall and wiped tears from her cheeks. "Take care of the bodies? Just like that? It's not that easy, Eric. You can't just snap your fingers and make vampire minions clean up the crap. Not this time. What about Chief Hamlin? How are we going to explain that?"

"Don't worry about it," Nick said, clearly uncomfortable. "I can fix that."

"You can fix that," I spat. "Like you helped us fix things with the Fiends. Like you wanted me to fix your problems. You're going to fix this."

Sensing my lack of faith, he coughed and softened his tone. "Yeah. I can. I promise. Um, Betsy. You've had a rough - I mean, maybe you should, uh, go lie down."

"I agree," Sinclair said, too quickly. "Elizabeth, let us handle this for you.

I wanted to leave. God help me, I wanted to run away from this house and never, ever come back.

But I'd settle for fleeing to my bedroom and dropping the mess in my husband's lap. And the cop who hated me.

"It was all just so - so stupid," I said. And preventable , my conscience whispered. If only you'd been paying attention to business...

I trudged up the stairs. Nobody went with me, which suited me fine.