Nick grinned, that easy grin of his that makes women’s stomachs flip, and the most blatant come-on sound almost sweet. “If you do start feeling conflicted, I can help.”

“Oh, I bet you can,” she said with a lilting laugh. She laid a hand on Nick’s arm. “I appreciate the offer, but I worked it out long ago.” She flashed a smile my way. “I’m willing to extend the same offer to anyone who hasn’t.”

I touched my belly. “I think I’ve worked it out too.”

Zoe started to respond, but was cut short.

“Dr. Danvers,” a voice called from halfway across the cafeteria.

Clay didn’t turn. Maybe he was intentionally ignoring the hail. More likely, he was so unaccustomed to the form of address that he didn’t recognize it.

A heavyset young man appeared at our table, smiling at Clay, his hand extended. Clay hesitated-he hates physical contact with outsiders-but the pause lasted only a second before he took the student’s hand in a firm, if brief, shake.

“Are you teaching next term?” the young man asked. “I didn’t see your name on the schedule.”

“Just visiting.”

“Damn. I didn’t get a chance to tell you how much I enjoyed your lectures. That’s exactly what I’m interested in, and I’ve read all your-” He stopped, flushed, then laughed. “Sorry. Academic fan boys-what geeks, huh? Anyway, I wanted to thank you for the comments you made on my paper. I really appreciated the encouragement.”

Clay’s gaze slid my way. I only smiled.

“Oh, and it’s Mrs. Danvers, right? I remember you from class.” He looked down at my stomach. “Don’t remember that, though. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” I said. “And I read your paper too. It was great. Clayton will have some competition in a few years.”

The young man blushed again, thanked us, then hurried off after imparting a warning to be careful. “Not a good time to visit Toronto,” he said. “Weird things happening.”

When he was gone, Clay looked at me.

“Comments on his paper?” he said.

“You said it was very good. Damn good, and he shows a lot of promise. So I wrote it down-without the damn.”

“I gave him an A. That’s not enough?”

“Comments help.”

“Comments won’t get him into grad school.”

“Hard-ass.”

Zoe had followed our volleys with a half-open mouth. When we stopped, she said, “Doctor? Please tell me he was kidding.”

“He was kidding,” Clay said. “Now, you called us here-”

“You’re a professor? In…what?”

“Phys ed. You called us here-”

She sighed and waved for us to sit. Clayand I grabbed drinks from Nick’s tray. There were two left.

Zoe laughed. “Didn’t want to be rude, I see.”

“I wasn’t sure,” Nick said. “Do you…drink?”

She took a bottle. “If it’s cold, I will. It gets terribly uncomfortable in the summer when you can’t sweat…and when your food only comes warm.”

Clay made a noise in his throat.

“Oh, stop growling. I’m getting to business.” She paused. “Weren’t we supposed to be doing this over lunch?”

“We just ate,” Clay said. “Besides, you don’t.”

She waggled a finger at him. “Don’t be racist. Vampires are civilized beasts, just like you-” She looked over at Nick and me. “Like you two. As such, we enjoy social customs such as shared meals…even if we can’t actually share them.”

“This is a cafeteria.” Clay pointed at her water bottle. “Consider that lunch.”

“Come on,” I said. “We’ll start walking, see if we find someplace to eat.”

We headed out to University Avenue.

“Theodore Shanahan did commission the theft himself, directly through me,” Zoe said as we walked along the shaded sidewalk. “And it was for that particular letter. He was very specific. No substitutions allowed.”

She took a sip of her water before continuing. “I remember that because I always ask. If I arrive on the site and realize that the piece they want isn’t accessible-has been removed, etcetera-I want to know whether the buyer will accept a second piece from the same collection, at a discount, of course.”

“Shanahan said no.”

“Emphatically no. It was the From Hell letter or none at all. That stipulation almost made me turn down the job. Traveling to England was hardly an overnight jaunt in those days. Imagine getting all that way only to discover they’d pulled the letter from the file. When I raised that concern, Shanahan promised that if that happened, he would cover all my travel expenses and pay me for my time.”

“So he really wanted that letter. What-”

“El-Darling?” Clay cut in, nudging me.

When I glanced over, he flared his nostrils. Sniff. I did, and caught the faint scent of rot on a crosswind, coming from the southwest-behind us and to our right, probably across the road.

“Knew they’d take the bait sooner or later,” I said. “Zoe? One of my zombie stalkers has caught up with me, so we need to cut this conversation short. Can I call you later?”

“Is that a subtle ‘get lost’?”

“If you glance to your right, you’ll probably see someone seriously overdressed for the weather.”