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I found my voice, finally. “What is that?”

“You said you wanted Mira’s head in a basket. That if we gave you that, it would make it right between our two clans.”

I took a sharp breath and blew it out. I looked down into the basket, still standing, still holding the gun like the comfort object it was. The mouth was open in a soundless scream, the eyes half closed as if they’d caught her napping, but I knew they hadn’t. Someone had simply closed the eyes after they took her head. Even dead, like this, the bones of the face were delicate, and you knew at least the face had been pretty.

I forced myself to put up the gun. It couldn’t help me now. I dropped back to my knees, staring at it. I finally looked up at Verne. I was shaking my head over and over. I looked into his face and tried to read something in it that I could yell at or talk to. But the expression was alien, and it wasn’t just the eyes.

You’d think after all this time, I would stop forgetting that they weren’t human. But I had. I’d been pissed, and I’d spoken as if I was talking to another human being, but I hadn’t been. I’d been speaking to werewolves, and I’d forgotten that.

I heard someone whispering, and it was me. I was whispering, “This is my fault. This is my fault.” I started to put my left hand in front of my face, and I caught a whiff of Barnaby’s rotted flesh. It was enough.

I crawled to one side and vomited. I knelt on all fours, waiting for it to pass. When I could speak, I said, “Don’t any of you people understand the term? It’s just a fucking expression!”

Richard was there, kneeling by me. He touched my back gently. “You told him what you wanted, Anita. She had betrayed the pack’s honor. It can carry a death penalty. All you helped them choose was the method of execution.”

I glanced sideways at him. I had a horrible urge to cry. “I didn’t mean it,” I whispered.

He nodded. “I know.” There was a look in his eyes of such sorrow, of a shared knowledge of how many times you never really meant what you said, but the monsters were listening, and they always took you at your word.

20

“I THOUGHT YOU were tough, Miss Blake.”

Richard helped me stand and I let him. I leaned against him for a second, my forehead against the smooth skin of his arm. I pushed away from him and stood on my own. I met Colin’s eyes. They were definitely grey, not blue.

“I know we’re supposed to go through all the protocol and waltz for a while, Colin. But the last of my patience is sitting in that basket. So state your grievance and let’s all get the fuck out of here.”

He smiled. “So tenderhearted, maybe your reputation is just talk after all.”

I smiled then and shook my head. “Maybe it is, but since we’re not supposed to kill each other tonight, Colin, it doesn’t matter.”

Colin walked away from me. He went to stand closer to his own people but faced Asher. I had been dismissed as his own human servant had been dismissed.

“I will not be replaced, Asher.”

“I have not come to replace you,” Asher said, voice empty, neutral.

“Why would Jean-Claude send a master almost exactly my age into my lands against my express orders?”

“I could have hidden what I was,” Asher said. “But Jean-Claude thought you would misinterpret that. I came in hiding nothing.”

“But still you came,” Colin said.

“I cannot change what has happened,” Asher said. “What would satisfy us all?”

“Your death,” Colin said.

Everybody went very still, as if we’d all caught our collective breaths. I started to say something and Richard touched my shoulder. I closed my mouth and let Asher talk, but it was hard.

Asher laughed that wonderful touchable laugh. “Breaking the truce, aren’t you, Colin?”

“Not if I kill a rival sent to supplant me. Then I am merely protecting myself and making an example for other ambitious vampires.”

“You know I have not come to supplant you,” Asher said.

“I know nothing of the kind.”

“I am content where I am.”

“Why?” Colin asked. “You could be the master of a city somewhere far from their