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“Yeah, okay, whoa.” Trez stepped in and separated them. “Let’s just cool out on the catfight, ’kay? Lemme take you home. You”—he pointed to the other female—“go see if he’s all right.”

The security guard glared at Ehlena. “You watch yourself.”

“Why? Because you’re going to show up at my back door? Whatever—compared to that thing last night, you’re a Barbie doll.”

Both Trez and the female went still.

“What showed up at your door?” the security guard asked.

Ehlena stared up at Trez. “May I go home now?”

“What was it?” he asked.

“A Kabuki doll with a bad attitude.”

As one, they said, “You need to move.”

“Great suggestion. Thanks.” Ehlena pushed past both of them and went to the door. When she tried the handle, of course, it was locked, so all she could do was wait to be let out again. Yeah, well, screw that. Biting down on her lower lip, she grabbed for the handle and wrenched at it, prepared to claw her way free.

Fortunately, Trez came over and sprang her like a bird from a cage, and out she flew from the club, into the cold air, away from the heat and the noise and the crowded desperation that choked her.

Or maybe the suffocation was a broken heart.

What did it matter.

She waited by another door, this one to the Bentley, wishing that she didn’t need the car to get home, knowing it was going to be a long while before she was even halfway settled enough to breathe right, much less dematerialize.

On the trip back, she could remember none of the streets they passed or the lights they stopped at or the other cars around them. She just sat in the backseat of the Bentley, all but inanimate, her face turned to the window, her eyes seeing nothing as she was spirited away.

Symphath. Sleeping with his half sister. Pimp. Drug dealer. Killer, no doubt…

As they went farther and farther away from downtown, she had more difficulty breathing instead of less. The stinger was that she couldn’t lose the image of Rehvenge kneeling before her, her cheap Keds in his hand, his amethyst eyes so soft and kind, his voice so lovely it was better than the music of a violin. Don’t you get it, Ehlena? No matter what you wear…to me, you will always have diamonds on the soles of your shoes.

That was going to be one of two ghosts of him. She would remember him down on that knee before her, and contrast it with the sight of him in that club just now, his truth revealed.

She had wanted to believe in the fairy tale. And she had. But like poor, young Stephan, the fantasy was dead, and the decay of it was horrific, a beaten, cold body that she would wrap in rationalizations and recastings that carried the scent not of herbs, but tears.

Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the butter-soft seat.

Eventually, the car slowed and stopped and she reached for the door handle. Trez got there first and opened her way.

“Can I say something?” he murmured.

“Sure.” Because she wouldn’t hear whatever it was. The fog around her was too thick, her world as her father sought to make his: restricted to only what was closest to her…and that was pain.

“He didn’t do this without reason.”

Ehlena looked up at the male. He was so earnest, so sincere. “Of course he didn’t. He wanted me to believe in his lies, and his cover was blown. There was nothing to hide behind anymore.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Would he have told me any of it if he hadn’t been caught?” Silence. “So there you have it.”

“There’s more to this than you know.”

“You think? Maybe there’s just less of him than you need to believe there is. How about that.”

She turned away and went through a door she could open and relock herself. Falling back against the jamb, she looked around at everything that was so dingy and familiar and wanted to break down.

She didn’t know how to get past this. She really didn’t.

After the Bentley took off, Xhex headed straight for Rehv’s office. When she knocked once and wasn’t answered, she punched in the code and opened the door.

Rehv was behind his desk, typing on a laptop. Next to him was his new cell phone, a plastic Baggie with some fat,