"Who's there?"

"Ears."

"Ears who?"

"Ears some more knock-knock jokes for you." He roared and I did my best not to roll my eyes. "Isn't that the bloodiest funny thing you've ever heard?"

"A riot." I pulled my chair upright and tried not to look freaked. "So what are you doing here?"

"You called me."

"On the phone," I pointed out.

He shrugged. "I prefer taking my calls in person." The humor fled his expression and his brown eyes hardened. He went from easygoing to formidable in the blink of an eye. I had the sudden feeling that I'd just been hauled into the headmaster's office.

"You have information for me. Is that correct?"

"Yes." Sort of. I launched into the story I'd told Ash, beginning with the matchmaking party and ending with the bloodstained couch.

A puff of smoke and a file folder appeared in his hand. "I know all of that already. It's right here."

"Yeah, well, the more an eyewitness tells a story, the more of a chance she has of recalling something she might have missed in the first place." Or so Ty had once told me.

He leafed through the folder. "Anything new?"

"Maybe next time."

He frowned, his expression darkening, and I glimpsed the legend himself. Awesome. Larger than life. I braced myself, fully expecting him to shout Abracadabra and turn me into a toad or a racc.o.o.n or something such.

He stared at me a long moment, but nothing happened. Finally, he shook his head.

"What?"

"You're a vampire."

"And?"

"A born vampire."

"And?"

"And I've never met such an uneasy born vampire. Most of them are very cheeky and full of themselves. And they're certainly not afraid of me."

"Should they be?"

"Perhaps." He grinned. "I do have a vast and colorful history involving possums. " When I arched an eyebrow, he added, "Toads are slimy and I'm allergic to racc.o.o.ns. Vampires make good possums because they most resemble bats." When I didn't look convinced, he added, "They both hang upside down."

I shrugged. Hey, it made sense.

I quickly noted that I was still upright. Designer shoes. Two legs. Great outfit. My luck was obviously changing, so I decided to go for broke. "What about Mordred? Do you have any idea where he might be?" When he didn't answer, I added, "I Googled him and found a list of past addresses. You might want to check them out-" "We already have, and we already know where he's taking her. He arrived in Austin last night and rented a car."

I did a quick mental of the list. "That means he's headed for Lonely Fork." It was such a small town, it hadn't even had a mention on Texas Online. "He is, right?" He nodded and relief bubbled through me.

"Mordred lived there about fifty years ago," Merle went on. "Rumor had it that he was this close to getting married, but then he abandoned the chit at the altar and disappeared. The fiancee died several years ago from Alzheimer 's. He obviously didn't share his beauty secrets with her."

"Your men will be there waiting for him? For an ambush? A takedown? What ever you guys do, right?"

"Waiting for him, yes. A takedown? I think not."

"Why not?"

"The sacrifice isn't until next week. There isn't much we can do until then."

What? Anxiety rushed through me, making my heart beat faster. I wanted to jump up, morph into the pink Batmobile and haul a.s.s south to save my friend.

Merlin, on the other hand, didn't look in nearly the same hurry. Rather, he was calm, easygoing. As if Esther's afterlife weren't hanging in the balance.

"He's starving her," I told him. "You know that, don't you?"

"A necessary part of his plan. The ritual is very specific. Each step must be followed to the letter; otherwise, it won't have the expected results."

"But he's starving her."

"There's no law on the sorcery books involving cruelty against made vampires, Miss Marchette."

I had a bad feeling about where this was headed, and Merlin's next words confirmed it.

"Until he actually commits the crime, I cannot prosecute him. He must follow through with the ritual. I will be there to deal appropriately with him once he makes the sacrifice."

"What about Esther?"

He shrugged. "It's a small price to pay to eliminate Mordred. She's a made vampire. Expendable. And not my concern."

But she was mine. She was my friend. And she was in this mess because of me.

My stomach heaved and my knees went weak. I sank down into my chair as the truth crystallized. Esther was as good as dead if I didn't do something.

Fast.

"Knock, knock," I told Merlin.

"Who's there?"

"Abbott."

"Abbott who?" "Abbott time you get your b.u.t.t out of my office so I can get to work."

Obviously, being on the receiving end wasn't nearly as funny. He frowned. "You're a very odd vampire."

Desperate was more like it. "Seriously, I really need you to leave. I've got work to do." If Merlin wasn't going to help Esther, I was going to have to do it myself.

"Do not interfere, Miss Marchette." He nailed me with a piercing stare that made my blood ice cold. "I have been waiting nearly one hundred years for a chance to destroy Mordred. I won't miss the opportunity this time. And I won't be nearly as accommodating should you disturb me again." A wave of his hand and a puff of smoke and Merlin disappeared.

"Nice to meet you, too." I fanned away the smoke and tried to process everything I'd learned.

Merlin had confirmed that Mordred was headed for Lonely Fork. Which meant I merely had to pinpoint the exact location, devise some sort of rescue plan, execute said plan, and save Esther. And all before next Friday.

And why don't you win the lottery while you're at it?

Okay, so I wasn't the most qualified vamp. I wasn't a detective and I had zero experience in dealing with murdering sorcerers.

Still, I had done some pretty courageous things in my life. I'd started my own business with nothing but a Visa and a prayer.

Even more, I'd stood up to my mother and proclaimed my independence-no more Moe's, no more fix-ups, no more personal maid service. She hadn't listened, obviously (at least when it came to the fix-ups), but the point was, I'd done it. I'd stood up for myself. Embraced a new way of life.

I was strong. Tough. I could do this.

I would do this, because I was a good friend.

And friends didn't let friends drive drunk or wear light blue polyester pants or date losers or die at the sharp end of a ritual knife.

"Y ou're going where?" Evie's voice drifted over the phone when I called her after a frantic online visit to EverythingsBiggerinTexasb.u.t.theAirfare.com [http://EverythingsBiggerinTexasb.u.t.theAirfare.com].

"Arizona." I braced myself for a stab of guilt. I was really headed to Austin and then Lonely Fork, but I wasn 't going to clue Evie in on my real destination. For her own good, of course. If Ty or my mother realized I 'd gone MIA and why, they would start looking for me.

At least I knew my ma would.

Disappointment did the stabbing this time, but I ignored it and concentrated on the situation at hand. A few seconds alone with some ultra-vamp mojo and Evie would be singing like Carrie Underwood. I couldn't risk it. The less she knew, the better.

"I'm flying into Phoenix," I went on, "and then I'll head out to the conference center via cab."

"Have you been drinking?"

Just a gla.s.s of O+, but I didn't think that's what she had in mind. "No."

"Snorting c.o.ke?"

"Hardly."

"Smoking wacky tobacky?"

"No."

"Riding the monkey?"

"I don't even know what that is."

"Neither do I, but I'm watching Law & Order: Special Victims Unit and this guy is talking about riding the monkey. Or maybe it's spanking the monkey." I heard the volume go down on the TV. "So what's with the sudden trip to Arizona of all places?

You do know that, other than Scottsdale and a really killer shopping center, the rest of the state is pretty much sand and cacti?"

"Exactly. This is one of those retreats where you get away from everything and focus on how to be a better, more successful businessperson. The more obscure the place, the better, since you're supposed to feel isolated and out of your element. It forces you to grow." Was I great off the cuff, or what? "Besides, I'm not totally roughing it. The retreat is at one of those posh resorts with a full-service spa and a golf course. Not that I'll be getting ma.s.sages all the time. I'll be busy focusing on how to hook up really difficult clients, complete with prep courses to deal with their little quirks. There's personal hygiene for the smelly ones. Dress tips for the fashionably clueless. Job search tips for the broke losers. You name it. I'm sure to learn loads of important stuff."

Or so I was hoping. While I knew that Mordred was somewhere in or around the small town, I didn't know the exact address where he was staying, or where he was hiding Esther, or where he would make the sacrifice.

At the same time, how hard could it be to find an ancient sorcerer in Lonely Fork? Really. It wasn't like New York or Chicago or L.A. where they had them practically crawling out of the woodwork. We're talking a map dot in the middle of the Bible Belt.

Even more, I was an all -powerful, ultra-sensitive queen of the undead. I could weave my vamp mojo and get anyone (translation, any straight human man or lesbian woman or the swinger who went both ways) to spill their guts in a nanosecond. I was so going to find this guy. And when I did, I was going to make him regret ever crashing my meet and greet and compromising the DED name.

In the meantime ...

"I need you to keep tabs on Mia. She and Harmon are going for date number three and I want to make sure everything goes okay." Third time was a charm. If all went well, my end of the agreement would be fulfilled with this last date. I.e., my money back guarantee? Fughetabout.i.t.

"I also need you to follow up with Tabitha and see how last night 's fix-up went. I've got another prospect if she didn't like him." And I was pretty sure she hadn't. While tall, dark, with crazy piercing eyes (as requested), the closest he came to being a warlock was dressing up for Dungeons & Dragons every other Friday for his fantasy video group.

"Where's her file?"

"I've got it with me." I kept all the Other profiles in my own personal stash and doled out info to Evie on a strictly need -to- know basis.

I gave her the name and number for prospect four-a professional bowler/amateur magician from Long Island. He wanted a woman who appreciated his creative side. In other words, one who wouldn't freak when he screwed up the rabbit trick and pulled a sewer rat out of his top hat.

Hey, it was the best I could do on such short notice.

"What about Jonelle Dubois?" Evie asked.

"I've got her file, too. She isn't in as big a hurry, so her next match"-if she ever forgave me for fixing her up with Uncle Harrington-"can wait until I get back. Other than that, I think we're good until the convention ends."

"What about Killer?"

"My brother's house-sitting."

"And Ty? Is he okay with you running off on the spur of the moment?"

"It's business. Besides, we're just dating and semi-living together. It's not like he's given up his place and completely moved in.

Or proposed." Or even said the L word.

"Not yet," Evie told me. "Say, why don't you invite him to go with you?"

And risk him stuffing a clove of garlic in my mouth, trussing me up with silver and locking me in my closet? Pa.s.s. I already knew what his response would be if I told him I was flying south-namely to stay home and, even more, stay out of it. Not because he was the typical cold, heartless made vampire who didn't give a s.h.i.t about another made vampire, but because he cared about me and didn't want to see me scared, hurt or dead.

He loved me. Probably.

Yeah, baby. And I've got some incredible beachfront property in Brooklyn to show you.

I ignored the silent dig and focused on my conversation with Evie. "I left him a voice mail telling him we'll get together when I get back."

"How long will you be gone?"