I rolled up the sleeves of my special, Garrett-knitted, baby blue sweater. "Hey, you wanna go? Let's go. But you won't be picking on a kid waitress this time."

"If Your Majesties wish us to leave"—another vampire—Don?

David?—"then of course we—"

"What a shame," Tina interrupted politely as she entered the room with a tray of teas and wines. It was as if she had heard the entire

conversation—and of course, her ears were good enough that she probably had. She promptly set the tray down on the coffee table and rubbed her hands together. "It seems these drinks will go to waste. But not every diplomatic mission succeeds at first, am I right? This one may take a bit of extra time."

"If you have a spare decade." Jessica smirked from her chaise longue. I couldn't tell if she was happier to see these vampires leave, or to see me fail. Either way, the way she blatantly ignored Eric's advice annoyed me.

"Please come with me, ladies and gentlemen," Tina motioned out of the parlor. "You can get back to your hotel all right? Do you require transportation?"

"Possibly off the tip of my foot?" I asked, dodging as Sinclair reached for me again.

They all stood and bowed. I had never seen sarcastic bows before.

Asshats. Then they trailed after Tina like the pack of dogs I was beginning to think they were.

"Not exactly the Yalta Conference of 1945," Sinclair spat. I couldn't decide if he was looking at me with deep sympathy, or fathomless disappointment.

Chapter 5

I popped a new piece of strawberry Bubblicious into my mouth and chewed frantically. Like constant tea-gulping and daily manicures, this was one of the many ways I tried to distract myself from the near-constant urge to drink blood.

Come to think of it, tea wasn't a bad idea right now. And Tina's tray was still there, so I got started.

"What are we going to do?" I cried, chomping and gulping and examining my nails. "We can't let him get away with it. Poor Sophie."

Sinclair was rubbing his temples the way he did when he felt a migraine coming on. No doubt, my actions were blameless in this case. "Elizabeth, where to begin. First, Alonzo is under your protection as much as Dr.

Trudeau is. Second, he's a member of a very powerful faction—" "Yeah, yeah, I know. We have to play nice."

"More than that," he said quietly. "We must determine if they are a threat to us. Rather, how large a threat."

"What?"

Sinclair was prowling around the (second) parlor like a leashed tiger. "As you probably donot recall—"

"Hey!"

"—they came by to pay their respects, but they took their time. You and I have been in power for a year."

I slumped lower on the couch. "Don't remind—wait. You think they should have stopped by sooner?"

"I know they should have. Taking this long is a borderline insult."

"They wanted to see if you guys could keep the top spot?" Jessica guessed, getting up from her chaise longue long enough to sample some of the wine Tina had brought in.

Sinclair and Tina nodded. Their nods were so hypnotic, I almost nodded myself.

"I believe I convinced them of my staying power when I visited them last summer," Sinclair was droning, "and certainly, I was able to avoid a coup at the time—"

"Thanks again," I said brightly.

"But now they're here. Ostensibly to pay their respects." "But maybe to see if we've got what it takes," I said.

"Exactly."

"Well." I hated saying anything nice or close to nice about the Euro-asses, but still… "They're here now. Right?"

"They're probably still in town, somewhere," Tina muttered. "And I don't know thatborderline insult is the right phrase, Eric."

"One thing at a time. What are we going to do to Alonzo, on Sophie's behalf?" I asked.

"What do you propose we do to him?" Sinclair replied.

"Huh." That was a stumper. Execute him in cold blood? Spank him? Banish him? Lock him in a room with Sophie and let her finish what she tried to start? "Huh," I said again.

"Can you evendo anything? I mean, all respect to Sophie, but Alonzo killed her… what? Over a hundred years ago? Way before you guys were on the scene. And like they said—it's what vampires do. Not you, Betsy. But you know." Jessica sounded as doubtful as I felt. "Can you punish him for hurting someone decades before you were born?"

"A thorny problem," Sinclair admitted. "I have to admit, one rarely faced.

Often, a vampire sired by another either joins forces with that elder, or completely ignores the connection. Many, in fact, do not even remember their sire. Sophie does not fall into any of these three categories."

"Ya think?"

"Darling, no one can understand you with that wad in your mouth."

I had made the huge mistake of trying to blow a bubble, and now it felt like yards of gum were tangled around my teeth. I fingered the chunk at the back of my mouth, glared at Sinclair, and tried to look both authoritative and sympathetic, all at once. "We gotta talk to Sophie again," I mumbled. "And the Europeans, I guess. We can't just leave it like this."

"We will," Sinclair promised, but for once, he looked like he didn't have a clue what to do. As frightening as Sophie's breakdown had been, watching him now actually made me feel worse.