Dead Reckoning

used had formerly been a walk-out game room downstairs. Eric had gotten some builders to make the wall solid, and he had the protection of a very heavy door that double-locked to bar the stairs. It made me just a wee tad claustrophobic to spend the night in there, though I had done it a few times if I knew I could sleep late. The upstairs bedroom had shutters and heavy curtains installed to make it light-tight for visiting vampires, but I left the shutters open and that made the room tolerable.
    After the catastrophic visit of Eric’s maker, Appius, and his “son” Alexei, I’d imagined I could still see blood everywhere when I came to Eric’s house; and I smelled it, too. But a decorator with a big budget had swapped the carpets and repainted. Now it was hard to tell anything violent had occurred, and the house had a sort of pecan pie smell. That homely fragrance was underlain with the faint dry scent of vampires, a smell not at all unpleasant.
    I locked the bedroom door after Eric left (on the theory that you never knew ) and had a quick shower. I kept a nightgown here, something nicer than my usual Tweety sleep shirt. I thought I heard Pam’s voice in the living room as I relaxed on the excellent mattress. I groped around in the night table drawer, found my clock and my box of Kleenex, and placed them close to hand.
    That was the last thing I remembered for a few hours. I dreamed about Eric and Pam and Amelia; they were in a house that was on fire, and I had to pull them out or they’d be consumed. Didn’t need a shrink to figure out that one. I only questioned why I’d put Amelia in the house. If dreams were more true to life, Amelia would have started the fire herself by some strange accident.
    I stumbled out of the house at eight in the morning, having had maybe five hours’ sleep. It didn’t feel like enough. I stopped at a Hardee’s and got a sausage biscuit and a cup of coffee. My day got a little brighter after that. A little.
    Aside from a brand-new pickup parked at the front by Eric’s car, my house looked sleepy and normal in the warm morning light. It was a dazzlingly clear day. The flowers blooming around the front steps lifted their faces to the morning sunshine. I drove around back, wondering who was visiting and what bed they were in.
    Amelia’s car and Claude’s car were in the graveled area at the back door, leaving just enough room for mine. I found it very strange to walk into my house when there were so many people there already. No one was stirring yet, somewhat to my relief. I started a pot of coffee and went into my room to change clothes.
    There was someone in my bed.
    “Excuse me?” I said.
    Alcide Herveaux sat up. He was bare-chested. The rest of him I couldn’t see under the sheet.
    “This is pretty fucking weird,” I said, riding a rising swell of anger. “Let’s have an explanation.”
    Alcide dropped his slight smile, which was pretty much the wrong expression to be wearing if you’re in my bed without asking me first. He looked serious and embarrassed, which was far more appropriate.
    “You’ve broken the bond with Eric,” the Shreveport packmaster said. “I’ve been wrong in my timing on every single occasion we could get together. This time I didn’t want to miss my chance.” His eyes steady, he waited for my reaction.
    I collapsed onto the old flowered chair in the corner. I often toss my discarded clothes on it at night. Alcide had tossed his there, too. I hoped my rear end was mashing wrinkles in his shirt that would never come out.
    “So who let you in?” I asked. He must have good intentions toward me or the wards wouldn’t have let him in, or so Amelia had told me. But just at the moment I didn’t care.
    “Your cousin, the fairy. What does he do, exactly?”
    “He’s a stripper,” I said, oversimplifying in the heat of the moment. I was not aware this would be big news until I saw Alcide’s face. “So, what, you just decided to sack out here and seduce me when I walked in the door? Home from spending the night at my boyfriend’s? After having sex with him that could go in the Guinness Book of Records?”
    Oh, God, where had that come from?
    Alcide was laughing now. He couldn’t seem to help it. I relaxed, because as snarly as Were brains are, I could see that he was also laughing at himself.
    “It didn’t seem like a good idea to me, either,” he said frankly. “But Jannalynn thought this would be like a shortcut, and we could