One guard led him toward the rear of the house, to a large, familiar family-style living room.

In the doorway, Julian jerked a halt. "There has to be somewhere else I can wait."

"Sir," said the Light Fae guard. "This is the safest room for you. It faces west and won't get any direct sunlight until late afternoon."

"I know that," Julian said shortly.

"Do you want me to escort you to another room anyway?" The guard's handsome features were puzzled.

His expression grim, Julian gestured to his own guards to remain in the hall as he stepped inside and glanced around. Very little had changed about the room since he had last been in it.

Wrestling with unruly emotions, he told the other male, "Never mind. This will do."

The guard asked, "Do you require refreshment, sir?"

Surprised, he raised one eyebrow. "Are you offering to donate?"

The guard's face remained studiously polite. "If it is necessary. Sir."

It was highly unusual for the Light Fae, or any of the other Elder Races, to offer to feed a Vampyre. The general assumption was that a Vampyre met his needs through his household. By having one of her guards offer him sustenance, Tatiana was making a huge concession in light of his abrupt trip.

The guard did not look enthusiastic at the prospect of letting Julian feed from him, but at least he didn't appear revolted. Julian said dryly, "Thank you, no. Where is the Queen?"

"She will be with you as soon as she is able. I'll let her know you've arrived. If you will just wait here, sir."

"Of course."

Once the Light Fae guard had left and shut the door behind him, Julian turned to confront the empty room.

There, in the corner by the French doors, was where it had all begun.

He fell into memories of the past.

It was the Festival of the Masque, and Tatiana had thrown another massive party. The number of guests was easily over a thousand, as people from all races and demesnes attended. Some wore simple masks and others donned elaborate finery. Fauns chased sylphs, while devils leered, and angels flirted.

Late into the evening, almost everybody was drunk except for Julian when he went looking for a quiet spot. Bored and contemplating leaving, he stepped into the family room.

That night, the French doors were propped open, letting in the cool breeze. A masked woman stood alone beside the drawn, cream-colored curtains, looking out at the revelry.

He knew who she was immediately, of course, but still he had to pause to admire the spectacle she made. Her white, floor-length halter dress accentuated every spectacular inch of her golden, curvy body. Her long, thick hair had been crimped into tight curls that swept off her forehead and cascaded about her shapely shoulders and down her hourglass back like a lion's mane.

When she looked at him, her eyes gleamed behind a golden cat mask.

"Let me guess," he said, as he strolled toward her. In an effort to hide how the sight of her affected him, he strove to sound lazy, disinterested. "You're the goddess of love, Inanna."

One corner of her full lips lifted. Gods, she had a sexy mouth, made perfectly for fitting around a man's erection.

"Well, duh," Melly said cheerfully. "I am a very drunken goddess of love. Hello, Julian. Such a shame you Vampyres can't fully appreciate champagne. Mommy spent a fortune on the good stuff for tonight."

"We can fully appreciate many wonderful things about champagne," Julian told her as he stopped by her side. "The scent, the taste. How intoxicating the effects of champagne can be as it courses through the blood of a beautiful woman." Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips. At the last moment, he turned it so that he could press his lips to the velvet skin at her inner wrist.

"Mmmn." The throaty sound she made shot straight to his cock. "You're a sexy beast, your majesty."

"I'm a bastard, and you know it." Parting his lips as they pressed against her skin, he licked her lightly. "I've never made any pretense about being anything else."

When he lifted his head, he found her smiling at him. "Yes, I do know. It's one of the things that makes you sexy and a beast." She lifted her wrist to him again. "Here, have a sip of champagne on me."

Carefully, he wrapped his fingers around her slender hand, while he met and held her gaze. "Your mother wouldn't approve," he said. By then he had dropped all attempts at indifference, and his lowered voice turned gravelly and soft.

She lowered one eyelid in a wink. "What Mommy doesn't know won't hurt her, will it? Besides, isn't it half the fun when you do something you know you shouldn't?"

He came closer, until the tips of her breasts brushed against the jacket of his black tux. "Indeed, it is," he said. "Very well, just a nip."

The heat that came off of her body was exhilarating. She grinned at him, and he gave her a lazy, crooked smile in return.

As he lowered his head again, he noticed that her nipples had come erect underneath the expensive white silk halter. He lost his smile as his cock hardened further and his fangs sprang out.

Gods, he just knew she was going to taste so damn good...

A noise from out in the hall broke the hold those vivid memories had over him and hurtled him back to the present.

Jerking away from the spot where he had first tasted Melly, he swallowed hard as he struggled to get himself under control.

Any hint of her scent had vanished from the room. Now it smelled of beeswax and lemon furniture polish. How long had it been since Melly was here? Did she ever think of him when she stood in this place?

As he roamed the spacious, elegantly decorated room, his mind filled with other images. This time, instead of memories from the past, his imagination created one nightmare scenario after another. Most of the scenarios focused on images of Melly badly injured, or worse, dead.

One part of him knew he was being irrational. When he forced himself to think logically, he knew Tatiana would not have asked for his help if Melly were already dead. He doubted that he would have warranted even a phone call from her. The only way he would have heard about Melly's death would have been through official channels.

In fact, it was entirely possible that Tatiana had asked for his help for any number of urgent reasons that had nothing to do with Melly. Yet he had never heard Tatiana sound quite so emotional, so... needy as she had when she had called him.

Something had struck her hard in the gut, and he knew of only one thing that could cause her to respond in such a way, and that was if one of her beloved daughters were in some kind of peril.

From the front of the house came the sounds of conversation and approaching footsteps. Moments later, the same Light Fae guard that had escorted him into the room ushered in two males.

Julian stopped in his pacing to stare at the new arrivals. He knew the other men well, if not deeply, for both of them were fixtures in the inter-demesne political landscape, and Julian often conversed with them at political functions.

The first male was Soren, a first-generation Djinn and the head of the Elder tribunal. While Djinn were beings of spirit and almost unimaginable Power, they often took physical form when interacting with other creatures. From what Julian understood, they could assume any physical form they chose. A Djinn could appear to be male or female, human or animal, or any creature of the Elder Races, but most often they chose to manifest as a single figure, as if that particular form was the clearest expression of their identity.

Soren's physical form was that of a tall, broad-shouldered man, with craggy features, white hair, and the piercing, diamond-like gaze that all Djinn shared. He held such concentrated Power that it took an effort for Julian to look directly at him.

The second male was from the Wyr demesne in New York. Dragos Cuelebre, Lord of the Wyr, had sent his First sentinel, Graydon. A gryphon in his Wyr form, Graydon was a massive figure, easily the largest of all seven of the Wyr sentinels, who were famous throughout the world for their superlative fighting skills.

Graydon was also one of the first generation of the Elder Races. Born at the beginning of the world, he carried an intense aura of Power just as Soren did, but whereas Soren's Power felt sharp and clear, like a piercing white light, Graydon's felt warmer and golden, like a hot summer evening.

Normally Graydon's rough, weather-beaten features wore a mild, good-humored expression, but now, his gray eyes held a sober, sharp look.

Julian's sense of dread increased. He had thought he was being irrational, but the arrival of the other two males escalated the unknown issue to something more extreme than he had been capable of imagining.

Graydon crossed the room to shake hands. "Julian," the other man said. "I caught your press conference yesterday about the attacks. How has the search been going?"

"It's early in the investigation," replied Julian. "But we've got a search protocol laid out. We'll catch who's responsible."

With a keen gaze, Graydon searched his expression. "You said you had over a hundred dead, and most of the casualties were human?"

"Yes." Unwilling to talk details, he braced himself to field off more questions.

But Graydon surprised him, as the other man shook his head. "That's unacceptable. I'm sure you have plenty of resources at your disposal for the search, but I want you to know Dragos is prepared to send you Wyr trackers, if you think you'll need them."

Julian had been in battle mode and coping with adversarial issues for so long, the simple offer of help caught him off guard. Surprised, he said slowly, "Thank you. I don't have an answer for you right now, but I appreciate the offer very much."

"Just say the word, and I'll send a team." Graydon paused. "I guess you being here is too much for coincidence. Did Tatiana ask you for help too?"

"Yes." Julian looked from Graydon to Soren. "Do either of you have any idea what this is about?"

The Djinn shook his head. "I was going to ask you the same thing. The only thing we know is that Tatiana asked me to bring Graydon here as soon as I could."

Graydon walked over to the large windows, his gaze roaming over the placid scene outside. "We would have arrived sooner, except I can rarely get away at a moment's notice these days."

Julian nodded. Recently, at the Sentinel Games in January, Graydon had assumed the duties of First sentinel, and as a result, his workload had to have increased exponentially.

He said, "I guess Tatiana will tell us why we're here as soon as she can."

On impulse, he pulled out his cell phone, scrolled to Melly's contact information and punched the call button. He wasn't expecting much. When he had recently tried to call her about the blasted trade agreements, she hadn't answered his phone calls or messages. Still, he felt the need to try.

The phone call didn't ring but rolled over immediately to voicemail, which meant nothing other than Melly's phone was turned off. For all he knew, she was busy consulting with her mother over whatever crisis the Light Fae demesne faced. As Tatiana's heir, Melly would undoubtedly be involved to some extent.

Not bothering to leave a message, he disconnected the call, all too aware of Soren's piercing, curious gaze lingering on him.

While the other two men talked quietly, Julian moved to the far side of the large room. His nerves were jumping with tension, and making even the pretense of polite conversation was beyond him. Closing his eyes, he let himself go completely still as only a Vampyre could do, while in reality, his muscles were so tight, he felt ready to lash out at a moment's notice.

It's been over twenty years since she betrayed me, he thought. I shouldn't care this much. I shouldn't care at all.

The fact that he did made him feel trapped and angry, and for one reason or another, he had been feeling that way for far too damn long.

For almost two hundred years, he had held steady against his sire Carling's increasingly erratic behavior and contradictory commands. What had once been an affectionate, respectful business arrangement had turned sour, then descended to bitterness and finally outright hostility, while he fought to hold the Nightkind demesne together despite the several selfish, predatory bastards who sat on the council.

Born a Roman slave, he had won his freedom in the arena as a gladiator. Then he had fought his way to the position of general in Emperor Hadrian's army. And then he had fought some more, for years upon years. War, in one form or another, was all he had ever known.

When Carling had offered him the unimaginatively long life and the Power of a Vampyre, he had leapt at the opportunity. After all, he'd had one master or another his whole life. Becoming eternally subject to Carling as his sire had seemed easy.

But it was a hell of a lot easier to talk about living through eternity than it was to actually live through an endless parade of years. Decades. Centuries.

Millennia.

No human soul can fully understand that long of a life. Looking back, he wasn't sure when everything had become so intolerable. He had seen over two thousand years pass, and he had borne so many yokes around his neck and engaged in so many struggles for so long, he felt like a pit bull at the end of his leash.

You breed a dog to fight then set him to fight for long enough, after a while that's all he knows. He'll fight and he'll fight, until eventually somebody comes along and puts him down.

After what felt like an interminable wait, everything seemed to happen at once.

Some distance away in the house, rapid footsteps sounded on the stairs.

Two pairs of footsteps, and both of them were light and quick enough to be feminine.

The tight band around Julian's chest began to ease. Opening his eyes, he drew in a breath and turned to face the door. Graydon and Soren evidently heard the people approaching, for they turned as well.

The door opened. Tatiana strode in, followed by her younger daughter Bailey, Melisande's twin.

Bailey was so like Melly, and yet not. They both had the same tall frame, with long, muscled limbs and voluptuous curves, the same rich, golden brown skin, green eyes, elegantly pointed ears and curly, blond hair. They even had somewhat the same angular features, and by some trick of nature, many of the same gestures.

For the barest moment, Julian's eyes refused to accept what he was seeing. The first thing he thought was, oh, she cut her hair.

But, no.

It was Bailey who had a short, tousled hairstyle and dressed like a fighter, wearing jeans, a tan T-shirt and a gun in a belt holster, Bailey who looked at him with undisguised antipathy on her drawn, tired face.

This time when the dread returned, it slammed an invisible fist into his solar plexus.

He forced his attention away from Bailey and focused on Tatiana.

The Light Fae Queen looked as elegant as ever. Her golden hair was pinned at the back of her head in an intricate style that set off her graceful head and neck. She wore a nude-colored suit and matching high-heeled shoes. The outfit was at once both conservative and subtly shocking. Her makeup was immaculate, and her composure appeared to be superb, all of which made the raw expression in her bloodshot eyes hit like another blow.

Without preamble, Tatiana said, "I can't express how much it means to me that you were each willing to come and help without even knowing the nature of our crisis."

"What's wrong, Tatiana?" Soren asked.

Taking a deep breath, she visibly braced herself. "My daughter Melisande is missing. We discovered it early this morning."

Julian stood immobile as her words sank in.

Without seeming to move quickly, somehow Soren was across the room and standing in front of Tatiana, who looked up at him with naked pain and fear in her eyes.

The Djinn took both her hands and said in a voice more gentle than Julian had ever heard from him before, "Tell us everything you know."

Bailey said tightly, "I was sound asleep in my home, in Jamaica. Everything was normal. I'd had a normal day, a normal evening, had a couple beers and shots with some friends, and went to bed around midnight there. I was tired and fell asleep just fine, and then suddenly, sometime later I woke up. I could have sworn Melly had shouted at me, and I knew something was wrong. I don't know how I just knew it. I called Mom right away."

Tatiana took up the story. "As soon as I talked to Bailey, I called the security company that monitors Melly's neighborhood. It's a gated community, and they always have somebody on duty, twenty-four/seven. When they sent someone to check on Melly, they found her front door standing open."

Standing open, like the back door of Justine's house, the light from within throwing an illuminated rectangle on a well-tended lawn.

Julian's body went as taut as a drawn bowstring, while his mind began to race.

One door had been left carelessly standing open in Northern California. Another had been left open in Malibu, in Southern California.

The two incidents were hours away from each other, in completely different demesnes. There was no reason to make a connection between them, other than to note how similar the images were. No reason at all, and yet...

He considered it anyway.