"For what?" Angus scowled at having his attention drawn away from the problem at hand. "Mass?"
"Aye. Father Andrew does a Mass for us Sunday nights at eleven. Roman had a room made into a chapel at Romatech. Then Shanna had the bright idea of offering free Fusion Cuisine afterward. We have about thirty Vamps showing up now."
Angus scoffed. "I doona need a priest praying for me. Unlike Roman, I'm verra happy being a vampire."
"So ye have no regrets?"
Angus shrugged. Every life had regrets, and his life had been longer than most. "I've always done what I thought was right at the time." And prayed that others didn't suffer for it. He glanced at Ian's permantly youthful face and winced inwardly. "I have made... mistakes."
"Then we'll see ye tomorrow."
Angus sighed. "Tell Roman I'll see him sometime tomorrow. I canna say when. I need to see Emma every night until I can convince her to stop her slaying."
"Connor thinks we should help, that ye shouldna handle this on yer own."
"He's wrong," Angus gritted the words out between clenched teeth while he glared at Ian.
"Right." Ian's innocent blue eyes widened. "Ye're the boss." He backed away toward the door. "Roman's going to want to know why ye canna come tonight."
Angus scowled at Emma's address on the profile sheet. "She has more stakes in her apartment."
"Ye're invading her home? Alone? She'll put up a hell of a fight, for certain. Let me come with you."
"Nay. I can handle her."
"She's murdered four vampires that we know of."
Angus stood. "I said I can handle her."
Ian hesitated, his hand on the doorknob. "Ye're no' immortal, Angus. None of us are."
Angus softened the scowl on his face. "I know. I'll be fine, lad. I'll see you when I get back."
Ian nodded. "All right." He left the room, calling back over his shoulder. "At least ye'll have the element of surprise."
Angus winced. No, he didn't. What a fool he was. And what a clever and feisty lass she was. She would probably have another trap ready for him. Blood rushed to his groin in anticipation. God help him, he was out of his mind.
Katya Miniskaya smiled politely as one of her Russian coven members entered her office. It was Boris, one of the whiners. Alek had informed her two months ago that Boris was complaining about her behind her back. Apparently he was upset that two of his whiny friends had suffered unfortunate, fatal accidents in her office.
She motioned to the chair in front of her desk. "How may I help you?"
His eyes lingered on her lace camisole too long before he sat. "Alek says you're offering a reward to whoever killed those mortals in Central Park."
"I am." She had suspected Boris was responsible. She'd also suspected he was stupid enough to fall for this bait. "Are you saying you killed one of those mortals?"
"Maybe." He lifted his chin with a challenging glare. "Maybe I killed all three. What's the reward?"
Katya stood slowly. She still had on her hunting clothes - a black lace camisole and a clingy skirt sliced up to her right hip. She wore nothing underneath. Dressed like this, she could usually scrounge up dinner in less than five minutes. Mortal men practically lined up to donate blood. She would feed from several, play with one or two if they were pretty enough, then send them away with their memories erased and an erection they couldn't explain.
She perched on the edge of the desk and crossed her legs so her right leg was exposed up to the hip. "What kind of reward would you like?"
He licked his lips. "I was thinking money or a bigger coffin. Or maybe - " His gaze feasted on her body, then lifted to her eyes. "You."
Her grip tightened on the edge of the desk, but she kept her smile even. "Are you admitting to the murders then?"
"Hell yes, I killed the women. Fucked them first, then drained them dry and slit their throats."
"How sporting of you." Katya pushed away from the desk and returned to her chair.
Boris shrugged. "There's plenty more where they came from. It's not like we're going to suffer from a food shortage." He grinned. "So are you giving over?"
She sat. "I am your master, not your whore."
Anger flashed in his eyes, and he stood. "Galina does it. She's upstairs right now, entertaining Miroslav and Burien."
"Then get in line. Galina enjoys boosting morale with her revolving door policy. I'm the one running this coven, and I have real business to attend to."
He snorted. "You're only master because you killed Ivan."
"Something you didn't have the balls to do." Katya opened her top drawer and inserted a dart into a blowpipe. "No, you attack defenseless women and call yourself a man."
He stiffened. "It is no crime to kill mortals. It is our right." His eyes narrowed. "There's no reward, is there? I should have known you were a lying bitch."
"Oh, there is a reward." Katya lifted the blowpipe to her mouth, and with a puff of air, she sent the dart flying straight to Boris's neck.
"I - " He stumbled back with a stunned look. He yanked the dart from his neck. "Nightshade?" He crumpled to the floor.
"It works fast, don't you think?" Katya strolled over to his paralyzed body, then placed a foot on his chest. She pressed down on the stiletto heel. "How do you like your reward?"
Boris's eyes clouded with pain and fear.
"You see, normally I wouldn't object to a mortal dying. I've killed quite a few myself. It's your motivation I object to. You're trying to cause a war between my coven and Draganesti's. You think if a war erupts, I'll be replaced. And you thought I was too stupid to figure that out." She leaned over. "I'm not going anywhere. You, on the other hand - "
The phone rang, interrupting her speech.
"Damn." She glanced at the phone, then at Boris. "Don't go away." Chuckling, she strolled back to the desk to answer the phone. "Hello?"
"Is this Katya Miniskaya, co-master of the Russian-American coven?" The masculine voice had sneered over the word co-master.
She tamped down on her anger. A male vampire would never get this kind of disrespect. Only one man had ever recognized her talent and potential. He'd praised her for what others failed to see. She'd set out to seduce him for the sheer challenge, but she'd fallen into her own trap. She'd fallen for him. And the bastard had abandoned her.
She should have killed him.
She shoved the memory aside. She was a coven master now. She didn't need any man, and she wasn't going to let this arrogant creep on the phone jerk her around. "Who are you? What do you want?"
"I am an associate of Casimir." The voice paused.
Katya waited, but he remained silent. Maybe he thought the mere mention of Casimir would scare her to the point she'd be unable to carry on a conversation. She snorted. "So?"
"He is unhappy with you."
"Big deal. I'm not real happy with him, either." Casimir had let everyone think he had died in the Great Vampire War of 1710. He'd left everyone feeling defeated and leaderless.
A form wavered beside the empty chair, then solidified. He was a chunky man with a neck thicker than his head, wispy brown hair, and cold blue eyes that regarded her with bored condescension. His gray suit and leather briefcase looked strictly business, but Katya knew danger when she saw it.
She eased around the back of her desk, making a show of hanging up her phone and sitting down. Her new position put her close to her blowpipe and supply of nightshade darts.
His lips curled into a sneer. "Thank you for seeing me." He snapped his cell phone shut and dropped it into his coat pocket.
Crap. He'd used her voice as a beacon. "Who are you, and what do you want?"
"I am Jedrek Janow, a close friend of Casimir."
She carefully kept her face blank. She'd heard his name mentioned in whispers over the years. He was Casimir's favorite hit man. "How do you do?" She motioned for him to take a seat.
He didn't. The bastard preferred staring down at her. He gently deposited his leather briefcase in the chair.
She lifted her chin. "How come you're awake? Has the sun not risen where you and Casimir are hiding?"
His eyes narrowed. "Casimir's location is none of your concern. As for me, I teleported from Paris. I cannot stay long."