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  "I told you everything I had to say, and there's nothing you can add that would change what I think or feel. Goodbye, Jonas."

  Without another look, she walked past him toward the staircase. He caught up with her immediately, his hand tightening around her elbow to stop her until she turned to glare at him.

  "Let go,” she started, but he talked over her.

  "You don't need to do this to get back at me. I don't want you to get hurt just because you have something to prove to me."

  Honest surprise made Claire laugh aloud. “I have nothing to prove, and least of all to you. Get over yourself, already. It's not that hard. I did."

  When she pulled away from him, he let go of her arm, though she could feel his reluctance. She stepped down the staircase with a hand on the ramp and her head held high, aware of Jonas’ gaze on her. She suspected he might follow to keep an eye on her, or even try to talk to her again, but she was relieved to discover that she didn't care.

  * * * *

  It was a little past eight when Matthew stepped into the club with Diane's hand resting on his arm. His mind was not on his surroundings, however, or on hunting. Instead, his thoughts revolved around Claire, and where she might have gone. He had arrived at her street minutes after nightfall, and just in time to see her disappear into a cab, dressed as though she were going on a date. Almost three months had passed since she had kicked Jonas out. It was more than time for her to go out and have fun. At the same time, though, he would much rather have been able to follow her and keep an eye on her than wonder where she was and whether she needed his help.

  Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice her at first, and it was only when Diane steered them toward the bar rather than the staircase that he realized something was going on.

  "Isn't that your girl?” she murmured as she took a seat on a high stool.

  Matthew followed her gaze and discovered that, indeed, Claire was standing only a few feet away, on the other side of the bar, where he could see her profile. Unable to take his eyes off her, he sat next to Diane and let her order for him. He had just realized whom Claire was facing, and he wasn't particularly pleased. If, after the proof he had given her of Jonas’ infidelity, she was still clinging to him, he would be very disappointed.

  As he eavesdropped on their confrontation however, he soon realized that this wasn't the case. She was rather hostile toward her former fiancé, to Matthew's silent delight, and when she rebuked him and walked away, Matthew almost cheered.

  "She doesn't appear to need much help,” Diane commented as she picked up the glass Matthew still hadn't touched and took a sip from it. It tinted her lips blood red. “And here you thought she'd lock herself in her house and brood for months."

  "Well, she did. And I'd have liked it much better if she hadn't chosen On The Edge for her first night out. Jonas is a bastard, but he's right. She has no business being here."

  Diane laughed, the sound like clear chimes. Stepping lightly off the stool, she took his arm and pulled him after her, heading for the staircase.

  "There's always something,” she said with a light shake of her head as they started descending the steps. “You want her out of the house, but you don't want her here. You want her happy, but you arrange to stop her from marrying her fiancé."

  "How could she have been happy, married to him?"

  Right as he said the words, he could see Jonas, on a platform across from them. The staircases zigzagged over all four walls, creating multiple paths to walk down to the dance floor fifty feet below the bar. The platforms, bridges between staircases worked with metal scrollwork safeguards, were perfect vantage points to observe the dancing crowd beneath. Leaning over the railing, Jonas seemed to be doing just that, but when Matthew glanced down as well, he didn't discover Claire on the dance floor as he had expected. Instead, she was standing on the lowest bridge, watching the dancers and sipping from a drink. Observing from afar fit more with her character than her presence at the club. Matthew hoped she would remain where she was and away from the hunters.

  The vampires here played by human rules and did not take blood that wasn't freely offered, but Claire would be ill advised to play that game with Jonas close by. The man wouldn't hurt her, or at least Matthew didn't think he would, but he would most certainly make a scene. What would follow wouldn't be pretty, not when he was a Special Enforcer and there were so many vampires in the club, and Matthew didn't want Claire to witness it if he could prevent it. He definitely needed to remain alert and keep an eye on how things would evolve.

  When Diane laughed again, her chuckle was all but drowned by the pounding music, but it drew Matthew's attention back to her. They were about to reach the dance floor.

  "Dance with me, Childe,” she demanded with a smile. “Your girl can wait a little longer for her turn."

  Without answering her teasing, he took her hands. He would not dance with Claire and Diane knew it, not tonight, not ever. If things went as they were supposed to, he would never even speak to her. Yet as his eyes returned to Claire while he danced with Diane, a small part of him, which he wouldn't have admitted existed, could only remark how fiery Claire had seemed while confronting Jonas, and how lovely she looked tonight, with her short hair and more daring clothes than he had ever seen her wear.

  He wouldn't have admitted either that he hoped he was the only vampire in the club to think so.

  "She seems to have things well in hand. She left him for good, just like you wanted."

  Matthew nodded. He pulled Diane closer and peeked over her head to the bridge, where Claire was still standing. She leaned against the railing, and her gaze swept the dance floor. For a second, Matthew had the feeling she was looking for someone, but he soon realized she was only taking in the entire scene.

  "She left him, true, but that doesn't explain what she's doing here. Looks to me like she's trying to rile him up, showing up where he works dressed like that."

  "She couldn't know he'd be here."

  Matthew had to concede that point. In the four months he and Diane had been back in town, Jonas hadn't been at the club more than a handful of times. It had to be a coincidence.

  "If she's here, she's got to be looking for dates. Maybe it's time to let her live her life, don't you think, Childe?"

  He grunted. A man had just approached Claire and said a few words to her; she had answered with a shake of her head.

  "When are we leaving town?” Diane insisted.

  The tone of her voice was hard to make out when he could barely hear her words, but he had a feeling this would be Diane's new favorite topic. She would keep asking about leaving until she tired of it and simply demanded that they do so.

  "Give me a few days. I want to be sure she doesn't start dating someone even less suitable."

  Diane snorted. She rested her hand on his cheek and stroked lightly. “You can be so stubborn, sometimes."

  With that, she stepped away from him and found another dance partner. Matthew did the same, although now and then, he couldn't help looking back up at Claire, and, on the bridge facing her, at a brooding Jonas. Even if she found a good man here, as unlikely as it was, it might not mean the end of her troubles if Jonas got in the way.

  * * * *

  When Claire stopped on the last bridge above the dance floor, she had to take a deep breath to try and get her bearings. Everything was overwhelming.

  Music was everywhere. A few people stood just a few feet away, but although their lips moved she couldn't hear a word of what they were saying. The sound seemed to fill every inch of space as though it were a physical presence.

  At first, the dance floor seemed too dark to make out much, but with the beginning of a new song, the lights flared up, pulsing, and Claire discovered a new world. The crowd beneath her seemed to be one single entity, a giant body moving to the fast beat of drums and guitar riffs. People constantly joined and left the dancers. Claire's eyes followed a couple as they left the dance floor and started climbing a sta
ircase up toward the bridge she was standing on. The woman was clinging to a dark skinned man. Her eyes, Claire saw as they walked by her, were shining almost as brightly as her smile. She seemed drunk, although not on alcohol, and as she looked at her companion, at the way he moved, Claire thought she understood why. He was sensuality incarnate.

  Her suddenly dry mouth reminded her of the glass in her hand. She took several swallows of it, the syrupy alcohol clinging to her tongue. Then she reached a new layer of the drink, and light flavor burst into her mouth, mint and citrus, a ray of sunshine in the darkness of the club.

  Condensation had formed on her glass, cool pearls of water that Claire erased with her thumb. She returned her gaze to the dance floor, studiously avoiding looking at Jonas. He was on the bridge against the facing wall, just opposite her, and she was determined to pretend he didn't exist.

  She let her eyes drift over the dancers, stopping now and then on attractive couples, and found herself coming back several times toward a handsome man in the crowd. Dark haired, he seemed to tower over the rest of the dancers, and moved with a grace that was entirely his own. Claire found herself envying the woman dancing with him, and even caught herself imagining that he was looking up at her.

  "You're much too pretty to stand here by yourself. Want to dance?"

  Startled, she looked at the blond man who had leaned against the railing next to her. He had talked very loudly so that she could hear him, but even so she had heard a bit of an accent in his voice. She observed him for a second, wondering where he was from, but finally smiled and shook her head. “Another time."

  "Another time,” he repeated, and moved away, undoubtedly to go look for another dance partner.

  Claire watched him go back to the dance floor with a woman that had been standing just a few feet to her left, and chided herself for refusing so fast. He was attractive, and a dance wouldn't have promised anything more. It had been months since she had left Jonas, and she hadn't been interested in dating since then, still too hurt to even think about it. Now that she thought about it, though, she could see herself talking to one of the men here, maybe even sharing a drink or a dance. Maybe not today, she wasn't fully ready for it yet, but she would return. Now that she knew the club wasn't anywhere near as dangerous as Jonas had always pretended it was, she had no reason not to come back. And maybe the next time she came, Jonas wouldn't be patrolling the place as a Special Enforcer anymore.

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  Chapter Two

  "Please sit down, Miss...?"

  "Sheer. Claire Sheer."

  Claire smoothed her hands over her pants as she sat down on the chair the detective had indicated. Her palms were sweaty, and had been sweaty all day. Every time she had thought of going to the police station, a knot had tightened in the pit of her stomach, making it difficult to eat, or sit still and work. She was doing the right thing—she was convinced of it—but she couldn't help but wonder what would happen once Jonas realized she had denounced him. He would be upset, certainly, and it wasn't a confrontation she was looking forward to.

  "Sheer...” On the other side of the paper-covered desk, the gray-haired detective considered her thoughtfully. “You're not related to Jim Sheer, are you?"

  Smiling tightly, Claire nodded. “My father."

  "There's a little family resemblance, yes.” The man—Detective Carson, the plaque on his desk said—leaned over his desk. “I worked with him, back when I started, before I was transferred to the vamp department. I haven't heard from him in ages, though. Not since he retired. What is he up to?"

  This wasn't what Claire wanted to talk about, far from it, but she had known she might come across former colleagues of her father when she came to the station. She forced herself to keep the smile in place.

  "He's been in Florida for eight years now."

  And had been remarried for nearly as long, she almost added, but Detective Carson didn't need to know that, or how Jim Sheer hadn't had the grace to wait for his wife's suffering to end before finding a lady-friend.

  "Good for him! I've been thinking of moving there myself when I retire. Two more years to go."

  She made the appropriate congratulatory remarks, wishing the entire time that they could have skipped the niceties and jumped straight to business. She was relieved when he pulled out a yellow notepad from beneath a pile of folders and picked up a pen.

  "Tell me, then, Claire. What brings you here?"

  She didn't like the familiarity of his tone, or the fact that, apparently, knowing her father gave him the right to call her by her first name, but she wanted him to listen to her, so she kept her annoyance to herself. Crossing her legs, she wiped her hands on her pants once more and leaned forward.

  "I have information about ... about a Special Enforcer. His name is Jonas Tesler."

  Recognition crossed Carson's face. Claire wondered if it was a good or bad thing that he already knew Jonas. Would he be biased in Jonas’ favor, or would he be more inclined to believe Claire? It was impossible to tell when he asked, his tone perfectly neutral:

  "What kind of information?"

  Claire took a deep breath. She was not betraying Jonas. He was acting illegally, and all she wanted was to protect innocent people, vampires though they might be.

  "He stakes vampires without proof that they're killers."

  The words had come out in a rush, but as soon as they were out, Claire felt better. A weight had lifted from her shoulders. Carson, however, didn't seem to realize she had said anything out of the ordinary, and he continued to look at her expectantly.

  "He doesn't report all the vampires he kills,” she added. “Only the ones that are legit."

  Instead of writing anything, Carson put down his pen and crossed his fingers over the notepad. He observed Claire for a few instants, long enough that she started to fidget, uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

  "That's a serious accusation,” he said at last, his voice deep and slow. “If it were proven, Tesler would not only lose his license, he would probably spend a good chunk of time behind bars."

  "I know that,” Claire replied, stung by the skepticism she could hear in his words.

  "Just making sure you understand what you're doing.” He picked up the pen again, and held its tip poised to the paper. “Now, start from the beginning, and tell me how you know about this. Did you see him stake a vamp?"

  "I didn't actually see him.” She watched as the point of the pen, once again, left the paper, and spoke faster, as though the sooner he heard what she knew, the more he would believe her. “I saw a notebook, in which he writes down his kills. And his numbers for the past couple of years were really high, too high to be normal."

  Claire didn't like at all the slight frown creeping up on Carson's brow, or the way he leaned back in his chair, elbows resting on the armrests and fingers linked over his abdomen.

  "How do you know what normal numbers are? And how did you happen to see this notebook of his?"

  This was the part Claire had hoped she wouldn't need to explain, but had known was bound to come up.

  "I used to be close to Jonas.” She felt her face grow hot as Carson's eyebrows twitched. “I've heard him talk often enough about how many vamps he kills in a given week. These numbers I saw, they were three or four times what he told me, and three or four times what he's paid for. Which is how I know he didn't report all his kills. And the only reason he wouldn't is if those kills are illegal."

  For a few seconds, Carson looked at her, his face inscrutable, and Claire couldn't tell what he thought of what she had just told him. She had to refrain from snapping just to get a reaction from him.

  "Do you have any proof?” he asked at last. “This notebook you're talking about, maybe?"

  "I ... No, I don't have it. But I'm sure if you search his place—"

  "I see. What is the nature of your relationship with Tesler exactly?"

  At that instant, Claire understood he did not believe her. She picke
d up her purse from the floor and slipped the strap over her shoulder as she stood.

  "What does it matter, what kind of relationship I had with him? What is important is that he's killing vampires."

  Carson stood as well with a little sigh. “Claire—"

  "Miss Sheer, if you please."

  He nodded. “Miss Sheer. Understand that I'm not suggesting you're lying. But from what you're telling me, I'm guessing you and Tesler aren't in the best of terms. Sometimes when people are angry, they imagine things, or make a mountain out of a molehill. Maybe those numbers you saw meant something else, or—"

  "I know what I saw, and he didn't deny it when I confronted him. If you don't investigate Jonas Tesler, you'll be responsible for a lot of vampires’ deaths."

  She had raised her voice just loud enough that the officers sitting around them would hear her despite the ambient noise. Some of them glanced toward her and Carson. As far as she knew, there were vampires among them; she had come to the station after dark in hope that if a human officer didn't believe her, a vampire one might take her more seriously.

  "Of course we will investigate.” His smile was forced, and when he thrust out his hand over the desk Claire hesitated for an instant before shaking it. “Thank you for your help, Miss Sheer. Let me show you out."

  She assured him she could find her way alone and turned away. She kept her head high as she walked past the row of desks, despite the knot that had returned to her belly along with the feeling that this had all been for nothing. Carson didn't believe her, and even if he truly looked into Jonas’ activities, he already thought he wouldn't find anything. More than ever, she wished she had kept the notebook when she had first seen what it held. She wished she had gone to the police right away. How many people had died, during the three months she had taken to think about all of it and what she ought to do? She had told Carson he would be the one responsible for innocent vampires dying at Jonas’ hands, but her own guilt was still there, and it wasn't going away.

  * * * *