Most people wore costumes even less definable than mine—rainbow-hued designer dresses and tuxes, intricate body makeup and gorgeous masks—that didn’t transform them into any recognizable character or creature. But hey, they looked great, and that, I think, was the point.

Like Lucas, Benicio had opted for the basic black tux. His mask, though, was anything but basic—it was an elaborate red hand-painted devil’s face that extended to his upper lip, leaving only his mouth and chin bare. It was gorgeous, and the devil/CEO metaphor was wryly clever, but hardly matched Benicio’s normal understated style. After a momentary burst of surprise, Lucas and I had to agree the disguise was good thinking on Benicio’s part. Between the simple black tux and the brilliant red mask, there was little chance he’d get lost in the crowd tonight. Keeping an eye on him would be a snap.

Of the Cortez family, the only other members in attendance were William and William’s wife. I have no idea what William’s wife’s name was, because I never met her. From the time we arrived, William found it convenient to be elsewhere, and kept his wife with him, so I know only that she was short, plump, and Hispanic.

As for Benicio’s wife, Delores, our invitation apparently revoked hers. Delores was forbidden to attend any function where Lucas might be present. I bet that went over well, informing her this morning that she couldn’t come to the event of the season. According to Lucas, Benicio and Delores’s marriage had long since become a union of formality. Both lived in their own homes and appeared together only at public events. And if I felt sorry for Delores missing the charity gala, I only had to remind myself that Benicio had instituted the no-shared-events rule eight years ago when Delores tried to poison Lucas at his high school graduation dinner.

Speaking of wishing Lucas dead, the eldest Cortez son, Hector, had been detained in New York, and was expected to miss tonight’s event. A damned shame, really. I knew someday I’d have to face Hector but, in this case, sooner was definitely not better. I had enough to worry about without that.

One thing we didn’t need to worry about was letting Benicio out of our sight. As I expected, he wasn’t letting Lucas out of his. We spent the first half hour being escorted around the room, introduced to what seemed like every politician and business leader in the state. I know I should have been impressed, but I couldn’t help thinking that I was in the same room with quite possibly every person responsible for the Florida election snafu, and the subsequent election of George W. Bush, and somehow I couldn’t muster a proper feeling of awe.

As Benicio led us about the room, I kept sneaking glances at Lucas, knowing how much he must have hated this. Given the choice between facing down a guntoting vampire again and attending a charity ball with his father, I suspect he’d pick the near-death experience. After roughly fifty rounds of being introduced as the next CEO of the Cortez Corporation, he wasprobably cursing me for bringing him back from the ghost world. Yet he never showed it. Instead he only deflected questions about his future with a smile and a deft change of subject. Finally, when the constant introductions threatened to start us both yawning, Lucas begged leave to take me onto the dance floor.

“Thought you couldn’t dance,” I murmured as he led me out among the other couples.

“I can’t.” A small smile. “But I can fake it for a few minutes.”

He positioned us where we could both see Benicio and could be easily seen by anyone watching the dance floor.

“Seems you’re learning the steps of another dance, too,” I said.

“Hmmm?”

“With your father. I saw what you were doing. He introduces you as his heir, you say nothing. You don’t deny it, but nor do you say anything that would confirm it.”

“I think I’ve realized that the harder I protest, the harder he pushes.”

“And while that might not wear down your resolve, it does wear you down.”

Lucas pulled me closer and brushed his lips across the top of my head. “Yes, I’ve noticed that. With you here, I’ve been seeing it though your eyes, imagining how it must look to you, and I haven’t been too pleased with the image I saw reflected.”

“Well, the image I see is fine. Always has been.”

A soft laugh. “That’s good to hear. But I can’t continue that way, running away, avoiding him, hoping he’ll leave me alone. He won’t. I’m his son. He wants some kind of relationship with me, and I think I want the same thing. I need to learn to deal with him on his terms, because he isn’t going to change. Yes, if I associate with my father, some people will take that as a sign of backsliding, but I can’t worry about that. I know I’m not taking over the Cabal. And if you know it, too, then that’s all that matters. Which leads me to another area of resolve. Regarding you. Or, I should say, us.”

“I hope it’s along the same lines,” I said. “Standing firm instead of running.”

“I’ve been resolved on that point for four months. Since the first flicker of interest on your part, I knew I wasn’t going anywhere without a fight.” He paused and frowned, eyes scanning the crowd.

“Talking to two women near the bar,” I said. “Can’t miss that mask.”

“Ah, yes, I see him. Now, what was I…? Resolve. It relates to your participation in my investigations.”

“You don’t want me there. I understand—”

He pressed his forefinger to my lips. “No, my resolve is to see this conversation through to the end, saying what I want to say without backing down for fear of frightening you off with a proposal that may impose upon your need for independence.”