Insatiable

There wasn’t a piece of furniture in 11B that hadn’t been smashed, slashed, or otherwise torn

apart or ruined. The sofa cushions had been slit open with knives, the stuffing strewn about the

place with colorful abandon. The exposed wooden sofa frame had been chopped to bits. Same

with Meena’s easy chair and the rest of the upholstered furniture.

The coffee table lay smashed into pieces, as did all the lamps and every bit of dishware

in the kitchen. The legs from the dining room table had been stuffed through the television

screen. All of Meena’s books from the built-ins in the living room lay piled into the bathtub,

where they’d been left to soak with the shower still running.

That had taken some true inspiration on the part of the Dracul. He couldn’t help

wondering which one of them had thought that one up. Destroying the beloved books of a

writer?

It could only have been Dimitri. The gesture bore all the signs of his old-school, Hunstyle viciousness.

Meena’s bed had seen a particularly savage assault, having been attacked with what

looked to have been a chain saw. On the wall above it, someone had spray-painted the word

whore in black. The dragon symbol of the Dracul had likewise been spray-painted on walls

throughout the apartment, wherever other various euphemisms for the word prostitute hadn’t

been used instead, usually spelled incorrectly.

Alaric, stepping across the broken glass and shredded clothing from Meena’s closet,

shook his head.

The Dracul would certainly never have to worry about being mistaken for Rhodes

scholars.

There was not the slightest chance, of course, that they had left anything living in this

apartment. Wherever Meena’s dog was, he was undoubtedly dead. Alaric didn’t even know

why he was bothering to look.

Except that he wanted to see the corpse for himself. He felt that the sight would give him

just that much more reason to hate the enemy and do to them the kinds of things he’d been

fantasizing about doing to them since entering the apartment.

He was inspecting the contents of Meena’s appliances—he wouldn’t have put it past the

Dracul to have broiled or, alternately, frozen the dog to death—when he heard a voice from the

doorway to 11B, which he’d most definitely locked behind him.

“Yoo-hoo,” a woman called. “Knock-knock. Anybody there?”

Alaric, who was of course clutching Señor Sticky in his hand, fell into a defensive

stance, ready to slice off the head of the female vampire who stood in Meena’s entranceway,

blinking at him. She was a tall blonde wearing a fantastical outfit that included a pair of

platform heels, some kind of sparkly gaucho pants, and a blouse that appeared to be made out

of feathers.

If his eyes didn’t deceive him, it was Mary Lou Antonescu, the socialite.

And while she appeared startled by the sight of the sword, she wasn’t half as startled as

he was. How had she gotten there? He hadn’t heard a key turn in the lock.

Was it possible she, like the prince, had the ability to turn to mist? Had she come in from

beneath the door ?

“Oh, hey there!” she cried in a friendly way. “You must be the Palatine guard who’s

trying to catch the prince. You’re not going to whack my head off with that thing, are you?”

Alaric stared at her in horror. If she possessed the ability to turn to mist, she must be an

extraordinarily powerful vampire.

And yet she looked as if she’d just come from a shopping trip to a suburban mall.

“Why shouldn’t I?” he asked.

“Because this top is Gucci, and it cost a fortune,” she said. “It would be a shame to ruin

it by turning me all to dust. Besides, we’re on Meena’s side. I saw the lights come on, and I

figured it was you. I knew you’d just cut Emil’s head off and ask questions later. I didn’t think

you’d be quite as quick to kill a lady. Are you here for the dog?”

Alaric couldn’t quite believe that he was actually standing in Meena Harper’s kitchen

having a conversation with…well, with a vampire.

A vampire who was dressed to the nines in designer clothes, flinging her long-nailed

hands around as she spoke like a starlet on a late-night talk show, promoting her latest

Hollywood release.

Was this some kind of trick?

But vampires weren’t smart enough to stoop to such tricks. Not even the Dracul. Tricks

like dropping down on him from a secret air duct in the ceiling and eating half his face off, yes.

But a conversation?

This was a first.

“Yes,” he said finally. He didn’t lower the sword, however. “I came for the dog.”

“We’ve got him over at our place,” Mary Lou said. “He’s fine. Lucien asked us to come

get him after we heard about that little altercation at Shenanigans. We weren’t sure it was you

all, but better safe than sorry. We figured Meena might have some…well, unpleasant visitors,

and Jack might not be safe over here.”

She looked around the apartment, shaking her head.

“Such a shame,” she said, tsk-tsking. “She had a sweet little place. And they just tore it

all apart, didn’t they? We heard them doing it, of course. But there was nothing we could do. I

mean, if we didn’t want to be next. We were going to leave town to get away from them—and

you, of course—but then we decided to wait. I suppose we could have dumped the dog off at a

kennel, but that just didn’t seem right somehow.”

Alaric, still keeping the sword aloft, narrowed his eyes at her. What was this?

“I know what’s going on here,” he said. “You’re a succubus, aren’t you? You’re going to

try to seduce me, then suck out my soul. Well, it won’t work. I’ve dealt with your kind before.

And I always win.”

Mary Lou, surprised, threw back her golden head and laughed. It was a happy sound in

an otherwise dismal place.

“A succubus,” she said. “Oh, honey, that’s a good one. Wait ’til I tell Emil. I’ve been

mistaken for a lot of things in my time, but never one of those! No, sweetie, I’m a vampire,

just like the rest of them. Well, not just like the rest of them. I’m on your side, like I said.”

“Yes, well, that’s not possible,” Alaric said. He crept forward, Señor Sticky aimed at her

throat. She, in turn, backed up until her spine was against the front door. “Humans and

vampires don’t mix. Vampires kill humans. And so it’s my job to kill you. All of you. No

matter how beautiful.”

“Oh, sweetie,” she said, looking pleased by the compliment. “Thank you. But not all

vampires kill humans. I don’t. Why, I used to be a human once. But I gave it up. You know

why?”

“No,” Alaric growled. “And I don’t care.”

“Love.” She raised her heavily made-up lashes to look at him. “I fell in love with a

vampire. My husband, Emil. I’m not saying he’s perfect or anything. He’s not. No one is. But

he loves me. He loves me so much that he was willing to give up killing humans just because I

asked him to…and that was before the prince ever became the prince and issued his command

that we all stop killing them. When Emil did that for me, I knew I’d found the love of my life.

And I was willing to give up everything I loved—my family, pecan pie, sunshine, the chance

to ever have babies—just to be with him. ”

“That’s too bad,” Alaric said flatly. “If you’d just have contacted someone in my office

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