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I had a bad feeling about this incident. When I talked to one of the guards, my suspicion was confirmed.

“He’s a Fellowship spy,” said the vampire, nodding in the little man’s direction. He’d located my name on a checklist clamped to a clipboard. The guard himself was a sturdy man with brown skin and a nose as curved as a rainbow. He’d been born somewhere in the Middle East, once-upon a time. The name patch attached with Velcro to his helmet said RASUL.

“We’re forbidden to kill him,” Rasul said, as if he were explaining a slightly embarrassing folk custom. He smiled at me, which was kind of disconcerting, too. The black helmet came down low on his face and the chinstrap was the kind that actually rounded his chin, so I could see only a little bit of his face. At the moment, that bit was mostly sharp, white, teeth. “The Fellowship photographs everyone who goes in and out of this place, and there doesn’t seem to be anything we can do about it, since we want to keep the goodwill of the humans.”

Rasul correctly assumed I was a vampire ally, since I was on the visitors list, and was treating me with a camaraderie that I found relaxing. “It would be lovely if something happened to his camera,” I suggested. “The Fellowship is hunting me already.” Though I felt pretty guilty, asking a vampire to arrange an accident to another human being, I was fond enough of my own life to want it saved.

His eyes gleamed as we passed under a streetlight. The light caught them so that for a moment they shone red, like people’s eyes sometimes do when the photographer is using a flash.

“Oddly enough, a few things have happened to his cameras already,” Rasul said. “In fact, two of them have been smashed beyond repair. What’s one more accident? I’m not guaranteeing anything, but we’ll do our best, lovely lady.”

“Thank you so much,” I said. “Anything you can do will be much appreciated. After tonight, I can talk to a witch who could maybe take care of that problem for you. Maybe she could make all the pictures turn out overexposed, or something. You should give her a call.”

“That’s an excellent idea. Here is Melanie,” he said, as we reached the main doors. “I’ll pass you on to her, and return to my post. I’ll see you when you exit, get the witch’s name and address?”

“Sure,” I said.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you smell enchantingly like a fairy?” Rasul said.

“Oh, I’ve been with my fairy godmother,” I explained. “She took me shopping.”

“And the result was wonderful,” he said gallantly.

“You flatterer.” I couldn’t help but smile back at him. My ego had taken a blow to the solar plexus the night before (but I wasn’t thinking about that), and a little thing like the guard’s admiration was just what I needed, even if it was really Claudine’s smell that had triggered it.

Melanie was a delicate woman, even in the SWAT gear. “Yum, yum, you do smell like fairy,” she said. She consulted her own clipboard. “You are the Stackhouse woman? The queen expected you last night.”

“I got hurt.” I held my arm out, showing the bandage. Thanks to a lot of Advil, the pain was down to a dull throb.

“Yes, I heard about it. The new one is having a great night tonight. He received instructions, he has a mentor, and he has a volunteer donor. When he feels more like his new self, he may tell us how he came to be turned.”

“Oh?” I heard my voice falter when I realized she was talking about Jake Purifoy. “He might not remember?”

“If it’s a surprise attack, sometimes they don’t remember for a while,” she said, and shrugged. “But it always comes back, sooner or later. In the meantime, he’ll have a free lunch.” She laughed at my inquiring look. “They register for the privilege, you know. Stupid humans.” She shrugged. “There’s no fun in that, once you’ve gotten over the thrill of feeding, in and of itself. The fun was always in the chase.” Melanie really wasn’t happy with the new vampire policy of feeding only from willing humans or from the synthetic blood.