“Look look look, here it is,” Brenda said, leaning forward.

We looked. A crowd of cops emerged from the hotel. In their midst, they escorted Boris and Sylvia. In handcuffs.

Brenda grinned mightily.

Evan explained. “We used their weapons. Their fingerprints are over everything. We lured them here in time for them to paw the bodies and get blood all over themselves. They’re going down. ”

Astonished, I let my jaw drop. “But they didn’t—”

Evan put a finger over his lips. Quiet. He said, “But they would have. They were certainly after you, weren’t they?”

I couldn’t deny it, and I couldn’t say I wasn’t pleased to see them folded into police cars and driven away. There was a hint of karmic justice in all this.

“Couldn’t happen to a meaner couple,” Ben said, raising his glass in a toast. “Unless it happened to you two.”

“Why, thank you,” Evan said. “And now we can discuss how much you owe me for looking after Kitty and for tipping the cops about Faber’s operation.”

“What?” I said. “You mean you figured it out?”

Ben intervened. “That would be a fine discussion, except I busted out of there before the cops raided the place,” Ben said.

Evan furrowed his brow, skeptical. “What? No.”

“I even got shot,” Ben said, like he was proud of it. “Which I have to say is another advantage of being a werewolf you may not have considered.”

“It’s not an advantage when all my bullets are silver,” Brenda said.

“I still tipped off the cops,” Evan said. “I tell you what. I’ll give you the friends-and-family discount. Twenty percent off.”

Ben said, “ That’s your friends-and-family discount?”

Brenda murmured, “It’s because he doesn’t have any.”

I stared. This was all so wrong. “You people are insane.”

Brenda just shrugged. Didn’t deny it.

A couple of the police cars drove away with Boris and Sylvia. More stayed, including a van marked CSI. This was going to end up on an episode of the show, wasn’t it? I guessed they’d be here a while. Five bodies, Evan said. Aside from Balthasar, I wondered which ones, who was left, and what would happen to the show. Not that I could think about them without shivering. Not even Avi, who’d seemed so friendly and earnest. I hoped the cult was broken up for good.

I said, “What about the vampire?”

“Vampire?” Evan said.

“Yeah. The woman in charge of the ceremony. That priestess. She was a vampire.”

“You sure?” Brenda said. “I remember her—I’m sure I capped her.”

“I smelled her. She got shot and nothing happened. She’s the real one in charge of that mess. If she got away, it’ll just start up all over again.” Or she might be looking to take revenge.

Brenda flattened her hand on the table. “What would a vampire be doing fronting a Vegas show?”

I thought about it: A vampire at the head of a pack of lycanthropes was a pretty powerful vampire. She’d be a rival to the Master of the city—unless she was something else entirely. Like a Babylonian priestess, heading a cult of a goddess who hadn’t been worshipped since the ancient Mesopotamian empires.

I nudged Ben. “Let me use your phone.” I dialed Dom’s number. It rang, and rang, and rang.

Did Dom even know that the head of Balthasar’s pack was a vampire—maybe even an ancient Mesopotamian vampire? And how old would she have to be to be the priestess of a Babylonian cult? Four thousand years old? I didn’t want to think about that. Would Dom know about her if she didn’t want him to? Now that she’d been disturbed, maybe even exposed, what would she do next?

“What’s wrong?” Ben said, reading the anxiety in my expression.

“He’s not answering.”

“Who?” Evan said. “Who are you calling?”

“The Master of Las Vegas.”

Brenda narrowed her gaze and looked confused. “You mean that cult was headed up by a vampire, and she isn’t the Master of Las Vegas?”

“I think something weird’s going on,” I said.

Evan laughed. “She says this now? ”

I’d noticed lately how my baseline for weird had shifted a bit. Werewolves and bounty hunters of the supernatural were normal. A borderline BDSM stage show starring a millennia-old vampire with a set that doubled as a temple for rituals of human sacrifice? That was weird.

“What do we do about it?” Ben said.

“Nothing,” Evan said.

“Nothing?” That woman had tried to kill me, and I didn’t like the thought of her running loose. But what the heck were we supposed to do about it?

“Not our bailiwick,” Brenda said, shrugging. “You can’t expect us to go after something that powerful just because it’s the right thing to do.”

“We only have your word that she’s a vampire,” Evan said. “Are you sure about that?”

“I smelled her.”

Brenda said, “If there’s a different Master here, I’m betting she isn’t even a vampire. Look—we took care of that gang. They’re not going to be sacrificing anybody anytime soon. Until she shows herself again—if she does—there’s nothing we can do.”

“Personally, I’m thinking she’s one of the five bodies we took out.” Evan gestured to the hotel driveway, where the first of the gurneys, carrying a body in a black plastic bag, was being brought out. Once again, I wondered who it was.

“I might be able to get a copy of the police report by tomorrow,” Ben said. “Can you wait that long?”

“Sure,” I said. “Assuming she doesn’t kill us all in our sleep.”

“You’re really a jumpy one,” Brenda said.

“Can you blame me?”

Ben took hold of my hand under the table and squeezed. Chill out. Don’t freak. She was just trying to get to me—it was her job.

“What do you want to do?” he said.

“I think I want to go see Dom. We have a little time—we can get over there before sunrise.”

“Then let’s go.” He pushed his chair out. “Thanks for the drinks, and the help, and the save. I’ll send you a check.”