Marie stood before the full-length mirror in panties and bra trying to decide what to wear. Her legs were long but she couldn’t help thinking that they were too pale, and horror of horrors, she had fat thighs! All the cycling she did, all the working out, had just made them worse. She was sure they were bigger than the last time she checked. She pinched the flesh at her hips and found almost an inch of fat between her fingers. She groaned at this new evidence. It was a good thing Terry had never seen her naked. The only man ever to do that had run away screaming… well, not really. She didn’t know what had happened to him. Martin had just disappeared one night.

Her eyes prickled and she dashed at the tears angrily. She would not cry. She didn’t care what they said about him. She knew he had loved her. He would never just leave as the police insisted. She could imagine all kinds of horrible things happening to him, but not that. She could almost wish that he had dumped her. At least then, she would know he was all right somewhere out there.

She resolutely turned her attention to her appearance. She was determined to have a nice time tonight. It had been too long since she had really enjoyed a night out. The last time was when her father had taken her to the opera to see a recreation of Henry Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas. She loved him for that gesture; she knew he disliked English opera, almost as much as she liked it.

She turned sideways trying to find something to appreciate in her appearance, but her eyes were drawn to her butt—flabby, and her chest—what chest? She sighed. Okay, she had nice hair didn’t she? She grudgingly admitted that she did. It was very fair and had always been easy to work with. It had a natural curl that most people believed came out of a bottle or at least an expensive salon.

Her eyes were a startling green like her mother’s had been—her father said so, and she had to admit that she liked them. Now that she was thinking about it, having a little meat on your bones was fashionable. Her stomach was as flat as anyone could want, and Martin always said he liked looking at her butt. If it was good enough for him, it was certainly good enough for Terry.

She turned away to look at the outfit laid out upon the bed. She had chosen a simple black sleeveless dress with spaghetti straps and square cut neckline. It would reach to mid-thigh, hopefully enough to convince everyone that her thighs were simply generous and not at all fat, of course they weren’t fat!

“Fat thighs, who me?” She snorted imagining the whispers. “You must be thinking of someone else dear.”

She would need to change her bra of course. Showing white straps was so tacky. She had bought a new black under-wire bra with very thin straps just yesterday. She didn’t like the strapless kind. They never felt very secure somehow, and they almost always curled at the edges. She had chosen one with a little extra whammy in the cups. With luck, it would fool everyone into thinking she had a bust to be proud of.

She checked her wristband and noted the time. She had to shower and change before Terry arrived. He would be picking her up soon. She had better hurry.

An hour later she was ready but Terry wasn’t apparently. He was late on their first real date—not a good start. She looked at her wristband for the umpteenth time and sighed. It was half past already. Maybe he was going to stand her up.

Great.

“Miss Stirling?”

Marie turned to find Andrew standing uncertainly at the open door to the lounge. Andrew was her father’s assistant, bodyguard, and general all around lifesaver. Anything her father needed done, Andrew could arrange it. Her father said he was a treasure. He certainly looked like one. He had been a jock in his college years, which going purely by his looks couldn’t have been that long ago, but that was a false impression. She had known him for ages. He never seemed to change to her eyes. His wide shoulders filled the doorway in which he stood—power at rest. He had nice hands. They looked strong and capable of…

She felt her face heating at his regard. She had known him since she was a kid! She shouldn’t be thinking about him like a potential… like he had potential! She wanted badly to pull her dress down to cover her knees. Fat thighs, who her?

“Hey there. I thought you went home, Andrew.”

“No, I’m still here,” he grinned when she chuckled at the obvious. “I’m supposed to ask where you’re going tonight, Miss Stirling.”

“Oh? Did my Dad tell you to ask?”

“He worries.”

She knew that he did worry about her, but she was a grown woman now. She had to admit that she was nervous, and that knowing her father and Andrew were here was comforting, but that was bad. She shouldn’t need comforting like a child all the time. She should be a woman of the new millennium—strong and self-possessed, but she wasn’t. She doubted that strength would ever be part of her nature.

“Terry didn’t say. It’s a surprise.”

“Mister Sayles is known to me, Miss Stirling,” Andrew said and took another step into the room. “You could—”

She held up a hand. “Don’t tell me I can do better, Andrew. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have legions of men queueing at my door.”

“I was going to say that you could have asked him before agreeing to this date. Your safety and that of your father is chief among my responsibilities.”

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “I’ll do that next time, I promise.”

“Thank you, Miss Stirling,” he said gravely.

“Andrew,” she said it almost like a sigh. “How long have you known me?”

“Almost twelve years, Miss Stirling.”

“Twelve years? Don’t you think it’s time you called me Marie?”

“It wouldn’t be proper, Miss Stirling. I’m an employee, nothing more.”

“You could be more. You could be my friend.”

“I would like that, Miss Stirling”

“But?”

“But your father would not take it kindly if he heard me being so forward with you.”

“That’s silly. Elsa calls me Marie, and so does Katrina.”

“With respect, Miss Stirling. The situation is somewhat different between you and them. Your father’s housekeeper is a woman, and so is his office manager.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Andrew nodded and withdrew. At the door, he hesitated and looked back. “I am, and always have been, your friend. Remember me if you ever need someone to talk to.”

“I will. Thank you, Andrew.”

Andrew left and Marie paced. Would Terry stand her up? No as it turned out. He was just very late. It was a little after eight when Andrew appeared again, this time with Terry in tow.

“Mister Sayles is here to see you,” Andrew said and Terry barged rudely by.

She stood and allowed Terry’s hug. The kiss was quick and without passion, more like her father’s kiss of goodnight. She told herself that she shouldn’t be disappointed. Terry wasn’t Martin and it wasn’t fair comparing them.

Andrew was still standing by the door with a look she hadn’t seen upon his face before. It was disappointment. How dare he be disappointed in her! What right did he have to think anything about her? She fumed for the barest instant but then remembered how kind he had been earlier. She needed kind. Her anger drained away to be replaced by... what? She could almost call it longing if it weren’t so silly. Andrew was Andrew—her father’s shadow. Ever there, ever dependable. He was her friend.

“Where are we going, Terry?” she asked and saw Andrew’s small nod of approval. It warmed her, but then she felt confused. Why was she trying to please Andrew?

“I told you, to a party.”

“I know you did, but where is it? Will I know anyone there?”

“You never know.”

His smile was almost a sneer and suddenly she didn’t want to go. She shook herself firmly. She wasn’t backing out. She had to learn how to be normal—at least how to pretend to be normal. Normal was going out and having fun, not hiding in her room letting the world go by. She didn’t want to be some kind of recluse all her life, but then she realised that she secretly did. She was appalled at that realisation.

I really am crazy.

She glanced at Terry and saw his smile again; it was just a smile not a sneer. Had she even seen it? She was trying to find reasons not to go out with him! “Okay. I like surprises,” she lied.

“That’s good, because you’ll be very surprised tonight.”

Andrew led them toward the door and saw them out. Marie almost stopped and begged off when she saw the look on Andrew’s face, but before she knew it, she was seated in Terry’s car and buckling her seat belt.

“This is going to be great,” Terry said as he drove along the driveway.

Andrew watched from the door until they were out of sight.

They drove into the city, but Marie didn’t enjoy it. Terry drove too fast and she didn’t like the area they were passing through. Not one bit.

“Where are we going?” she said nervously. She glanced out the car window again. “I don’t like the look of this place.”

“Relax,” Terry said with laughter in his voice. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.”

She tried to smile, but she couldn’t seem to summon one up. They were driving through a part of the city that she had never entered before, let alone after dark. No one with any sense would come here.

“Do you know where we are?”

“Of course I do, sweetheart. I told you we were invited to a party.”

“So you said, but I expected it to be uptown not down here! Please Terry, this place is dangerous—”

“Not for us, sweetheart, I have an invitation.”

Marie subsided. Terry was a mistake; she knew that now. If she were completely honest with herself, she had known it from the first, but she had wanted… what? Someone for herself, she thought wistfully—someone who would love her and listen to her. Someone who would take charge of her.

She scowled into the night.

Did she really want that? Did she really want to be cared for like a child for the rest of her life? What was wrong with her that she would want that? She knew the answer, but she did not like it. Daddy’s girl—that’s what she was. Martin was right.

Tears threatened as she remembered him. Why had he left her? She had loved him so much, and he had loved her. She was sure he had. They had talked about getting married dozens of times, but then one day he just vanished. The police said there was nothing they could do. Even her dad with all his contacts had failed to find him. Something must have happened to him. He would never have left without her.

“Here we go,” Terry said cheerfully.

“You must be joking!” she said in horror. She stared at the club with wide eyes. “We can’t go in there!”

“Sure we can. I’ve been in dozens of times. It’s the best. They don’t allow just anyone in you know.”

“But it’s a club for—”

“Vamps and shifters? Yeah I know. That’s what makes it so great!” Terry said with excitement heavy in his voice. “Come on.”

Terry climbed out and opened the door for her. Marie reluctantly climbed out and walked with him toward the main entrance of the club. She wanted to hide as they walked straight by the queue of hopeful party-goers. Everyone was glaring at her. She felt so exposed.

There were two very large men standing at the doors. Marie was sure they would stop her entering, but they took one look at her and waved Terry inside. They hadn’t even bothered to check the invitations he clutched so tightly as if fearing someone would steal them.

The interior of the club was something of a surprise, though thinking on it she didn’t know why it should be. She was far from experienced where these kinds of clubs were concerned, she didn’t know what normal was, but surely this quiet elegance wasn’t it. The foyer was plushly carpeted and subtly lit. It was completely free from the crowds of debauched revellers she had expected to find. She had heard all kinds of terrible things about non-humans and what they did for entertainment, but she saw none of those things. There were very few people, and as far as she could tell, none of them were monsters.

She watched a couple talking together and thought they looked perfectly human. She would have sworn they were if asked, but then the man noticed her watching him. He scowled and his friend noticed. She turned to see what had drawn his attention.

She gasped. The woman’s eyes were golden, and so beautiful! They shone with an inner light, and looked so exotic, especially combined with her mixed Asian skin tone and subtly almond shaped eyes.

Terry chuckled. “She doesn’t like you, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? I thought you liked it.”

“I put up with it, I never liked it,” she said angrily. “What is she?”

Terry looked the woman over. “A shifter probably. They like to shock people, you know? Shifters can make grandstanding an art form.”

“I didn’t know they could change just their eye colour like that.”

“The strong ones can. I saw a guy grow a tail once—he was stoned at the time... and that’s another thing—did you know that shifters have to use a ton of the stuff for it to affect them? Can you imagine a shifter with a habit?”

“No,” she said. The thought was too horrible.

“Of course not. They couldn’t afford it!” Terry laughed, but Marie didn’t. He was becoming less funny as time went by.

Terry checked his coat with a woman behind a counter and pocketed the ticket stub she gave him. Marie shook her head at the woman’s enquiring look and kept her shawl, though she didn’t really need it. Holding it in place gave her something to do with her hands.

“He reserved the best seats in the place for us,” Terry said in satisfaction and waving the invites as if fanning himself.

“Who did?”

“A friend of mine.”

“Is he our host?”

“You might say so. It’s his club.”

Marie followed him toward the inner doors and through them. A strikingly handsome man in a white tuxedo met them on the other side. Terry said his name was Charles and that he was the floor manager. He had marvellously blue eyes that held her gaze and trapped it there. She felt much of her tension leave and a smile appeared on her face. He made her feel so comfortable that she had to wonder why she had been so uneasy before.

Terry spoilt the mood when he embarrassed them both by waving their invitations under Charles’ nose. Charles stepped back a pace and lost eye contact with her. Marie suddenly felt chilled. Goose bumps dotted her arms and she shivered. What in the nine hells was that? Why had she been standing there with a silly grin on her face?

Charles looked a little disgruntled for a moment, but he was a professional. He took the cards from Terry. He obviously knew who they were and did not really need them, but he showed them to their table without fuss. He was a professional.

“Enjoy your evening.”

Terry waved Charles away, but Charles wasn’t speaking to him. He had again caught her eyes with his. His words seemed to reverberate in her brain until all she could think about was having a good time.

“Enjoy... evening,” she mumbled and blinked awake. “Thank you, I’m sure I shall.”

Charles inclined his head politely and left smiling.

“Seems like a nice man,” she said watching him going back to his place near the doors.

Terry snorted. “You don’t know anything do you?” Before she could even think of becoming angry at his tone, he went on. “Charles isn’t a man, well not anymore. He’s one of the monsters. You know, a vamp?”

“A vampire?” she hissed under her breath. “You led me in here and didn’t warn me? You bastard!”

“Calm down. You knew what you would see in here, and if you didn’t, you should have.”

She scowled at him. She had known, but the club was so nice that she had begun to forget her fears. They were back now in full measure. Her eyes swept the room trying to see just what she had fallen into.

There was music and singing, quiet conversation between patrons, and men and women enjoying their meals—there seemed nothing to fear. A live band was performing to one side of the stage. They were playing a love song better suited to a nineteen thirties music hall than to a club for non-humans. A very tall woman was singing her heart out. She was wearing a backless evening gown cut low in the front that would have been almost indecent in any other setting. It was soft silver in colour—like platinum, and very simple in its lines. Marie doubted she was wearing anything under it, but the woman made it seem more than ample. Her voice was pure gold. She could have been wearing a sack and no one would have cared so long as she didn’t stop singing.

The table to the right had two couples sitting and laughing together. She paled when she noticed the men both had golden eyes. Their companions looked human, but they surely weren’t. No one, man or woman, could possibly be so complacent as to actually date a shifter. Lycanthropy was hideously contagious.

She looked behind her and found Charles with another couple at the door. He was smiling and staring very intently at the woman. Less than a minute went by and the woman started as if just then realising that she’d been daydreaming. The woman rubbed her arms as if she had a chill, just as she had earlier. Charles indicated that they should follow him and led the way to their table. The woman was still dazed. Her companion put an arm around her shoulders and steered her toward their table.

Terry noticed Marie’s distraction. “It’s his job.”

“What?”

“Charles. Calming the guests is his job.”

“Why didn’t he work his magic on you then?”

Terry shrugged. “I’ve been here before. I didn’t need it. It’s not really magic you know. Clouding minds is part of a vamp’s nature. It’s a kind of a defence mechanism, like those fish that puff up when bigger fish come by. Vamps use it to calm their prey so they can feed in safety.”

She shivered. He’d said prey as if he didn’t care that a vampire’s prey had always been human. Vampires were cannibals when you really analysed them. They denied it of course. They insisted that drinking human blood was not the same as eating human flesh.

Yeah right.

“How come you know so much?”

“I’ve been around. Some of the stuff I’ve seen would turn your hair grey,” he said smugly pleased with himself.

“Terry,” a warm voice said chidingly. “You are frightening my guest.”

And that is a bad thing.

Marie almost said the words aloud. They seemed appropriate to the mood somehow. She turned to see the most exquisitely handsome man she had ever seen approaching her table. Heads turned throughout the club, and conversations trailed off in mid-word as men and women craned their necks to stare. She didn’t blame them.

He wore his jet-black hair long and loose, it flowed onto his shoulders like a waterfall made of night. His skin was pale and smooth like marble. No one was that perfect, it had to be a trick. She pulled her eyes away from his and focused on his hand where it reached for hers. It was just a hand, but she didn’t want to touch him for fear of what she would discover.

One moment he was gliding to her table, the next he was holding her hand. She gasped at this evidence of his otherness. “Who are you?” How many vampires were wandering loose in the club?

Terry was standing and she hadn’t seen him rise. “Marie Stirling, this is Stephen Edmonton. He’s the owner of Lost Souls and our host this evening.”

Get out, get out, get out.... RUN!

She stared, paralysed with fear. A better description might be fascinated. She was like a deer frozen in the headlights of an oncoming car. Her mind was shrieking, but her body was completely still as if trying to be as small and unnoticed as possible. It knew a predator when it saw one. This beautiful man, this thing, was undeniably a predator.

“Delighted to meet you at last,” Stephen said and lightly brushed her hand with a kiss. “You will not fear me; there is nothing to fear while I am near.”

“Nothing... fear...” she shivered and smiled up at him, but then she caught sight of Terry’s face.

The excitement there was unmistakable and faintly disturbing. His eyes were fevered and a light sheen of sweat gleamed upon his face. She didn’t know what it meant, but he looked as if he’d done something clever and was waiting for his reward like a good dog. She pulled to free her hand, and Stephen allowed it to slip out of his grasp. She had no doubt that had he not allowed it, she would have needed a crowbar to escape. A big one!

She licked her lips. “What are we really doing here?”

Stephen beckoned to a waiter and another chair was brought. He sat as he did everything else—gracefully. “Terry has simply performed a service for me. A favour if you will.”

“A favour? What favour?” She tried to catch Terry’s eyes, but he avoided looking at her. He made to sit, but hesitated when Stephen glanced at him.

“No,” Stephen said simply.

Terry looked confused. “You promised.”

“Leave,” Stephen said without even looking at him. When Terry did not move, he turned and glared. “Now.”

Terry stumbled back as if pushed. He reached a shaking hand to his face and brought his fingers away bright with blood. His nose was bleeding, but there had been no blow.

“You promised.”

“You shall receive your reward. Have I not given my word?” Stephen said and dismissed Terry by turning his attention back to Marie.

Terry retreated. “Thank you, Stephen.”

“Don’t leave me with him!” she pleaded, but Terry ignored her and continued backing away.

“Hush. No harm shall befall you,” Stephen promised.

She believed him, which scared her worse than anything else. Was he using his magic on her? “What did you promise him, and what are you going to do with me?”

“Terry is a minor servant of mine. He has been useful to me in the past, but I think that is coming to an end. A pity.”

He smiled but she noticed how he kept his lips tight. The thought of what he was made her faintly queasy. She ought to be screaming the place down, but she felt calm—she was curious more than anything. That fact would probably scare her later. Why wasn’t she screaming? She found herself leaning forward trying to see his fangs.

Stephen noticed and allowed her to see.

“They’re so tiny,” she said in wonder. “I mean, I’m sure they’re more than adequate—” she broke off in confused embarrassment.

Stephen’s startled laughter rang through the club, and suddenly everyone was beaming in pleasure—including Marie. It was wonderful that he was happy. He should be happy. She wished she could think of something else to make him laugh. Maybe she could—the babbling in her head suddenly cut off as if with a knife. It left her feeling almost dizzy.

“Forgive my indiscretion.”

“I don’t understand.”

He gestured to his patrons who were conversing with their companions as if nothing had happened. “I sometimes leak power. It can lead to embarrassing situations.”

“You leak?” she squeaked.

Stephen grinned. “They felt my delight in you and reacted.” He tilted his head a little and his hair spilled from his shoulder to cover one eye. Marie’s hand twitched and reached toward him of its own will. She wanted to brush it away, but she snatched control of herself and forced it to be still.

Stephen continued as if unaware of her confusion. “I asked Terry to make it possible for us to meet.”

“Why?”

“Would you believe I was curious?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so,” he said approvingly. “What do you know of your father’s business dealings?”

“What has my father to do with this?”

“Humour me.”

“I know that he has interests in a lot of companies, mostly in electronics. Techtron is his though.”

“Techtron is why you are here. Would you like to order food?”

She blinked at the subject change. “I’m not hungry.”

“Some wine perhaps? I have some very fine vintages here, very fine,” he said wistfully. “Let me choose one for you.”

“Just the wine then.”

Stephen gestured to one of the waiters, the same one who had brought his chair earlier, and spoke to him quietly. The waiter seemed surprised by something, but he nodded and left to fetch Stephen’s choice of wine.

“You said Techtron is the reason you invited me here.”

“That’s right. Have you heard of AML?”

“Who hasn’t?”

AML stood for the Anti Monster League. It was an organisation supposedly supported by concerned citizens that saw non-humans as a danger to humanity. Publicly, AML stood for peaceful protest with the aim of segregating all non-humans from human areas. Reservations were AML’s public answer to everything monster related. Privately, AML fanatics could be credited with any number of atrocities against non-humans.

“AML is ready to launch its new campaign.”

“And you think that Techtron is somehow involved? No, you wouldn’t need me for that... you think it’s my father!” she said in outrage.

“Not your father, but someone highly placed in his organisation.” Stephen said appeasing her. “Ah, here is the wine.”

The waiter placed a single glass on the table and then carefully, almost reverently opened the bottle. Marie watched all this in bemusement. She would like to ask what was so special about the wine and the occasion, but she did not want to display her ignorance. Stephen obviously took his wines seriously. She would not spoil it for him.

“Should I pour, sir?”

“No, thank you, Michael, I shall serve the lady. You can go.”

The waiter placed the bottle reverently on the table and excused himself.

Marie was sure she was missing something. Was it unusual for Stephen to sit with a guest, or was it something else? The waiter had left with a strange look on his face—almost amazed.

“I remember wines of such variety and colour that today’s vintners would scarce believe me should I try to describe them. So much has been lost—”

“A lot has been gained though surely?”

Stephen shrugged. “Oh… yes, I suppose so. There are the occasional bright spots. A new variety of grape was grown not long ago. I am told that it produces a wine that almost surpasses the great wines lost so long ago.”

“You haven’t tested it?”

“I cannot,” Stephen said. “My condition prevents me.”

“You can only drink—” she couldn’t say it.

“Blood, yes. Water also, if taken in small amounts.”

That was one way to finish conversation. The thought of Stephen sinking his fangs into someone in order to drink their blood was horrible. He was so beautiful that it was easy to forget the reality. Vampires were not called monsters for nothing. Best she remember it.

“Whom do you suspect at Techtron?”

“I don’t.”

“Then how do you know that Techtron is involved?”

“Techtron