Dead and Gone

my way between the tables and across the dance floor to the rear of the bar. Felicia, the bartender, looked unhappy when she saw me. She found something to do that involved crouching down out of my sight. I had an unfortunate history with the bartenders of Fangtasia.
    There were a few vampires seated throughout the bar area, strewn among the gawking tourists, the costumed vampire wannabes, and the humans who had business dealings with the vamps. Over in the little souvenir shop, one of the New Orleans vampire refugees from Katrina was selling a Fangtasia T-shirt to a pair of giggling girls.
    Tiny Thalia, paler than bleached cotton and with a profile from an ancient coin, was sitting by herself at a small table. Thalia was actually tracked by fans who had devoted a website to her, though she would not have cared if they’d all burst into flames. A drunken serviceman from Barksdale Air Force Base knelt before her as I watched, and as Thalia turned her dark eyes on him, his prearranged speech died in his throat. Turning rather pale himself, the strapping young man backed away from the vampire half his size, and though his friends jeered as he returned to his table, I knew he wouldn’t approach her again.
    After this little slice of bar life, I was glad to knock on Eric’s door. I heard his voice inside, telling me to come in. I stepped inside and shut the door behind me. “Hi, Eric,” I said, and was almost rendered mute by the surge of happiness that swept through me whenever I saw him. His long blond hair was braided tonight, and he was wearing his favorite jeans-and-a-tee combo. The T-shirt tonight was bright green, making him look whiter than ever.
    The wave of delight wasn’t necessarily related to Eric’s gor geousness or the fact that we’d bumped pelvises, though. The blood bond was responsible. Maybe. I had to fight the feeling. For sure.
    Victor Madden, representative of the new king, Felipe de Castro, stood and inclined his curly dark head. Victor, short and compact, was always polite and always well-dressed. This evening he was especially resplendent in an olive suit and brown striped tie. I smiled at him and was just about to tell him I was glad to see him again when I noticed that Eric was eyeing me expectantly. Oh, right.
    I shucked off my coat and extracted the velvet bundle from my purse. I dropped the purse and coat in an empty chair, and walked over to Eric’s desk with the bundle extended in both hands. This was making as much of the moment as I could, short of getting on my knees and crawling over to him, which I would do when hell froze over.
    I laid the bundle in front of him, inclined my own head in what I hoped was a ceremonious manner, and sat down in the other guest chair.
    “What has our fair-haired friend brought you, Eric?” Victor asked in the cheerful voice that he affected most of the time. Maybe he was actually that happy, or maybe his mama had taught him (a few centuries ago) that you catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.
    With a certain sense of theater, Eric untied the golden cord and silently unfolded the velvet. Sparkling like a jewel on the dark material was the ceremonial knife I’d last seen in the city of Rhodes. Eric had used it when he officiated at the marriage of two vampire kings, and he’d used it to nick himself later when he’d taken blood from me and given me blood in return: the final exchange, the one that (from my point of view) had caused all the trouble. Now Eric lifted the shining blade to his lips and kissed it.
    After Victor recognized the knife, there was no trace of a smile remaining on his face. He and Eric regarded each other steadily.
    “Very interesting,” Victor said finally.
    Once again, I had that feeling of drowning when I hadn’t even known I was in the pool. I started to speak, but I could feel Eric’s will pressing on me, urging me to be silent. In vampire matters, it was smart to take Eric’s advice.
    “Then I’ll take the tiger’s request off the table,” Victor said. “My master was unhappy about the tiger wanting to leave, anyway. And of course, I’ll inform my master about your prior claim. We acknowledge your formal attachment to this one.”
    From the inclination of Victor’s head in my direction, I knew I was “this one.” And I knew only one male weretiger. “What are you talking about?” I asked bluntly.
    “Quinn requested a private meeting with you,” Victor said. “But he can’t come