“If I don’t go, who will? What happens the next time Roman decides to take us out?”

Cormac shrugged. “This Roman character can’t be as badass as all that.”

“Oh, I think he can,” Ben said.

The hunter’s lip curled; he liked a challenge.

“I’m just not sure I can actually help. What does Anastasia expect me to do, talk Roman into submission?”

“You stood up to him once,” Ben said.

That didn’t mean I wanted to stand up to him again. Once was enough. On the other hand, if Anastasia and I had a chance to stop him, I’d rush to San Francisco.

“Amelia’s game,” Cormac said.

“Does she get a vote?” I said.

Cormac glared at me, but maybe it wasn’t Cormac doing the glaring. Yes, then.

“This isn’t your fight, you don’t have to go,” I said.

“Will Porter even let you go?” Ben said. “I know we got you a few days off for this, but San Francisco?” Porter was Cormac’s parole officer.

“I’m a model student,” Cormac said. “He’ll let me.”

I wondered sometimes if wizard Amelia had some kind of spell to put the whammy on Porter—he let Cormac get away with so much. But I wasn’t going to complain; I’d feel better with Cormac watching our backs. Not that I would necessarily say that out loud.

Ben said, “We go to San Francisco, then. Check things out. But we get out of there the minute things go south.”

“Too bad I don’t usually notice things have gone south until it’s too late to run,” I said.

The silence I got in reply to that was a little too pointed.

Chapter 3

I CALLED ANASTASIA back and told her we’d be in San Francisco in a couple of days. She said she would manage until then—Roman hadn’t made his move yet, and she would keep out of sight until he did. We had enough time back in Denver to wrap up some details: Cormac checked in with his parole officer, Ben cleared some work with his law practice, I dropped in at the radio station and New Moon to remind them I was still alive. And I went to see Rick.

Tonight, Rick was at Obsidian, the art and antique gallery he owned, where he made his headquarters. He and the dozen or so vampires in his Family slept out their days in the basement. I didn’t know if they actually used coffins, but I had it on good authority that coffins were optional and most vampires didn’t bother with the affectation.

After parking the car behind the building, I went down the stairs and knocked on the unmarked steel door. I put on a surly attitude because I expected to have to argue with a flunky—one of Rick’s vampire underlings who acted as gatekeeper. Most of them had a thing against werewolves and didn’t understand why Rick was so friendly with me. The more stubborn they got, the more I had to bait them. We’d stand there calling each other names until Rick came along.

There I stood, hands on hips, glaring at the door—which Rick himself opened. I blinked at him, my attitude blowing away like dandelion fluff.

“I got your message,” he said. “Come in.”

A minute later, we were sitting in Rick’s office, a large, comfortable, parlorlike room, with a desk, computer, and shelves cluttered with books and trinkets on one end, sofas and padded chairs on the other. Throw rugs on the worn hardwood floor and soft lighting made the place seem shockingly normal, unlike what I thought of when I thought of vampires. No pretension, no arrogance or attempts to intimidate, no showing off the collected wealth of centuries. Which was Rick all over, really.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked.

“No, I’m fine. I just have a couple of things I want to ask you about. First off, we found something in Kansas.” I pulled the old coin on its cord out of my jeans pocket and set it on his desk.

He leaned forward and moved his hand toward it. “May I?”

I gestured a yes. He held the object up to the light, studying it.

“You ever see anything like it?” I asked.

“Maybe. It looks a little like an old Roman coin.”

I might have choked out a gasp, and Rick looked at me over the coin. I straightened, regaining some semblance of composure. “We found the burned-out homestead outside Dodge City. There was still one vampire left. He was wearing that.”

“Really?” he said wonderingly. “The vampire—what kind of shape was he in?”

“Terrible. I hardly recognized him as a vampire,” I said. “He’s gone, now.”

Rick shook his head, making a small tsking noise. “Amazing.”

I pointed at the artifact. “If that’s a Roman coin, you don’t think it has anything to do with Roman the vampire, do you?”

He tilted his head, smiled. “The Roman empire was much bigger than Roman the vampire, Kitty. It might have just been a souvenir.”

I didn’t want to admit that he was probably right. We found the vampire, the old stake, and this relic. It had to have some significance because the vampire had been wearing it all this time. “So it doesn’t mean anything? It’s just flotsam?”

“If it means something, I’m not sure what,” he said.

I sighed, disappointed. Maybe I thought I had another puzzle piece. Another clue in the mystery of the vampires’ tangle of allegiances. I put the coin back into my pocket. Maybe Anastasia would know something about it.

“And now for the second thing?” Rick said, drawing me out of my thoughtfulness.

I nodded. “Anastasia called me. She’s in San Francisco, facing down Roman and needs help.”

“Ah, hence the flinch.”

“I didn’t flinch.”

He suppressed a smile. “And you’re going?”

“Yeah. I want to check it out. She says Roman’s looking for this artifact—she actually used the phrase ‘immense power’ to describe it. We have to keep him from getting it.”

I tried to read some emotion off him—was he shocked, wary, confident? What did he think? He seemed calm, mildly curious.

“What do you need from me, then?” he said.

“An opinion. I can’t help but wonder what she isn’t telling me,” I said. The last time I’d seen Anastasia, we’d been on the same side battling some particularly destructive enemies. We’d trusted each other because we didn’t have a choice. I trusted her now because I’d trusted her then. So what was I missing?