Insatiable

She couldn’t, he told himself, know. How could she? He hadn’t known until the prince

had told him himself, that morning. And he knew everything that went on in their world.

Didn’t he?

“You know.” Mary Lou waved a hand impatiently over her head. “She predicts how

people are going to die. I thought the prince might like it. It makes her different, you know,

than other girls.”

“You knew about this?” Emil asked with a feeling of growing horror. “You knew Meena

Harper could do this when you asked her to dinner at our home…with the prince ?”

“Of course I did.” Mary Lou stared at him like he was an idiot. “I ride the elevator with

her nearly every day. You think I don’t know what’s going on in that head of hers? Well, I’ll

admit…it’s a little confusing in there. But that brother of hers, he’s an open book. I just put

two and two together. I’ll admit, I was always a little tempted to take a bite myself, just to see

what it would be like. But you always said not to eat where we live. But when I found out the

prince was coming, I thought, Wouldn’t it be nice if they got together? A girl who can tell

when everyone is going to die, and your cousin, the prince of darkness, with everything he can

do. Together…well, talk about a power couple! And then if he turned her…well, think about

the possibilities!”

“Mary Lou,” Emil said. He felt as if his entrails had turned to stone. “You haven’t told

anyone, have you? About Meena and her ability. And about her and the prince getting together.

Tell me you haven’t told anyone.”

“Well, no,” Mary Lou said, her eyelids fluttering. “I mean, no one who matters. Just

Linda. And Faith. Well, and Carol, from your office. And Ashley. Oh, and Becca, of course.”

“Oh, God,” Emil said with a groan.

Then he reached for his cell phone.

Chapter Forty-seven

7:00 P.M . EST, Saturday, April 17

Shrine of St. Clare

154 Sullivan Street

New York, New York

M eena sat at the gleaming kitchen table across from Yalena, watching her as she lifted

the mug of steaming cocoa to her lips with fingers that still shook hours after her rescue.

Meena wasn’t sure Yalena would ever stop shaking after everything she had been through.

“More hot milk for your cocoa, dear?” Sister Gertrude asked her, hovering nearby with a

pitcher.

Yalena didn’t respond. It wasn’t clear if she didn’t understand what the nun was saying

or if she was deaf from all the blows she’d received at the hands of her captors.

Or maybe she was just in shock from everything that had happened.

Meena didn’t blame her. She was still in a little bit of shock from the way Alaric had

leapt across all those tables, single-handedly subdued Stefan, then assured all the stunned

lunch patrons at Shenanigans that Stefan was a meth head and that Alaric was an undercover

cop who was putting him under arrest.

Meena was pretty sure if she’d been sitting there, eating Sticky Wings at Shenanigans,

she’d never have believed it.

But everyone—even the waitstaff and manager, who’d offered all the customers free

Onion Bricks for their inconvenience—seemed fine with it.

It wasn’t until they’d started down Shenanigans’ back staircase to grab a cab to St.

Clare’s—where, Alaric had insisted, they’d get help for Yalena and “the rest of this

straightened out”—that they’d discovered two more “vamps” (as Alaric called them) waiting

in the shadows at the bottom of the stairs.

They’d fled upon seeing Alaric holding Stefan at sword-point, tearing through the

restaurant’s kitchens and out a back door to a Town Car waiting in a darkened alley. The car,

its windows tinted almost black, took off with a squeal of brakes…or so Jon, who’d chased

after the vampires, reported. Apparently they’d been expecting only Meena, Yalena, and of

course Stefan…not Meena, Yalena, Stefan, Meena’s brother, and a hulking demon hunter from

the Palatine Guard.

First Meena’s boyfriend. Then her next-door neighbors. Now one of the actors on the

show on which she worked.

Was everyone she knew going to turn out to be a vampire?

Meena had known Stefan Dominic looked familiar. She just hadn’t been able to place

him back at the studio. But why had Stefan—who’d turned out to be Gerald, of all people—

tried to kidnap her?

Alaric was in another part of St. Clare’s, applying holy water to different parts of Stefan

Dominic’s body, trying to discover the answer to that very question.

From where she sat, in the rectory kitchen, Meena could barely hear the vampire’s

screams.

“There you go,” Sister Gertrude said soothingly, pouring more milk into Yalena’s mug,

even though the girl hadn’t indicated she wanted more. Then the nun bent down to straighten

the downy comforter she’d draped around Yalena’s shoulders. “Nice and hot. Good for the

body. Good for the soul.”

Yalena didn’t know how lucky she was to still have a soul.

Or maybe she did. Meena wasn’t sure what the girl knew.

One thing Meena knew:

The way Alaric had saved Meena—and Yalena—at Shenanigans had softened her

attitude toward him. There was something to be said for someone who would leap over several

restaurant tables to wrap his bare hand around the throat of a vampire who was trying to

kidnap you.

“Does this happen often?” she asked Abraham Holtzman, pointing in the direction from

which the faint sounds of Stefan Dominic’s screams could be heard. Abraham had introduced

himself to Meena and Jon as Alaric Wulf’s boss. He was currently pacing nervously up and

down the kitchen, occasionally bumping into Sister Gertrude and saying, Oh, I beg your

pardon, Sister .

“Good heavens, no,” he said, coming to a halt in the middle of his path across the

kitchen. He looked horrified. “We don’t condone this sort of thing under normal

circumstances. Alaric has his own methods, of course, and, well, though I can’t say I actually

approve of them, they have been shown over time to have surprising effectiveness—”

Meena held up a hand to stop him. “Say no more,” she said drily. “I get the picture.”

It did bother her a little, however, that her brother had volunteered so cavalierly to “help”

Alaric, and several of the Franciscan friars who lived in the rectory, torture Stefan.

“Miss Harper,” Abraham Holtzman said, looking slightly disturbed, “I can tell by your

tone that you may not be particularly fond of Guardsman Wulf—and, by extension, the

Palatine—which, for a woman in your current circumstances, is perfectly understandable.”

Meena felt herself blushing. She was aware that Alaric had told his boss what her

“current circumstances” were—that she was sleeping with the prince of darkness—and she

was thoroughly mortified. That this total stranger (who was old enough to be her father) knew

the most intimate details of her life was not okay.

Did Sister Gertrude know, too? Meena darted a nervous look in the older woman’s

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