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I opened my mouth, closed it, then said, “I’m trying to decide where to start.”

“Start with the dangerous part.” There, that was Edward, not start at the beginning, but start with the dangerous part.

“I did call for backup, but I have other backup already. It’s not you, but it’s not a bunch of amateurs either.” I was being honest. The wererats were almost completely ex-military, ex-police, or ex-criminals. Some of the werehyenas were the same flavor of professional. I had help. I shouldn’t have called Edward.

“You sound like you’re trying to talk yourself out of asking me for help,” he said, and his voice was curious, not worried, just curious.

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Because Peter answered the phone.”

There was a sharp intake of breath. “Hang up the phone, Peter,” Edward said.

“If Anita’s in trouble, I want to know about it.”

“Hang up the phone,” he said, “and don’t make me ask again.”

“But…”

“Now.”

I heard the phone click.

“Well,” I said.

“Wait,” he said.

I sat on my side of the phone in silence, wondering what we were waiting for. Finally Edward said, “He’s off.”

“Does he listen in on phone conversations a lot?”

“No.”

“How do you know he doesn’t?”

“I know…” He stopped himself, and said, “I don’t think he does. I think you’re a special case for Peter. He’s in Donna’s old room. I told him he could keep the phone if he behaved. I’ll talk to him.”

“If he’s in Donna’s old room, where are you and she sleeping? Not that it’s any of my business,” I added.

“We put a master suite on the house.”

“Have you moved in, then?”

“Pretty much.”

“You sell your house?” I asked.

“No.”

“I guess Batman can’t sell the bat cave.”

“Something like that.” But his voice, which had started a little friendly, was not friendly now. It was empty, the old pre-Donna Edward talking to me. He might be talking about domestic bliss and raising teenagers, but he was still the coldest killer I’d ever met, and that person was still in there. I wasn’t sure whether I couldn’t bear the thought of him watching Becca at ballet class, or would have paid to see him sitting with all the other parents waiting for their leotard-clad darlings.

“If I lied well enough I’d just make something up and hang up.”

“Why?” he asked, in that empty voice.

“Because Peter answering the phone made me realize that it’s not all fun and games anymore. If I get you killed, then they lose another father. I don’t want to have to explain that to Peter, or Donna, or Becca.”

“But especially Peter,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Since you can’t lie to me, just tell me, Anita.” His voice was a little softer now, a little feeling to it. Edward liked me; we were friends. He’d miss me if I were gone, and I’d miss him, but there was still a little question on whether one day we’d find ourselves on the opposite sides of a problem, and have to finally see which of us was the better man. I was hoping that day would never come, because there was no way for me to win the fight now; dead or alive, we’d both lose.

“Do you know what the Harlequin are?” I asked.

“French clowns?” he said, and let himself sound puzzled.

“Do you know them in any other context?”

“Twenty questions isn’t like you, Anita; just talk.”

“I just wanted to see if I was the only vampire hunter extraordinaire who was totally in the dark about this. It makes me feel a little better that you don’t know about them either. Apparently Jean-Claude is right; they really are a big, dark secret.”

“Talk,” he said.

I talked. I told him what little I knew about the Harlequin and his band. It really wasn’t that much.

He was quiet so long that I said, “Edward, I can hear you breathing, but…”

“I’m here, Anita. Just thinking.”

“Thinking what?” I asked.

“That you always let me play with the best toys.” And his voice wasn’t empty now, it was eager.

“And what if these toys finally manage to be bigger and badder than you and me?”

“Then we die.”

“Just like that,” I said. “You wouldn’t have regrets?”

“You mean Donna and the kids?”

“Yes,” I said, and I stood,