“It is your Clan,” Ethan said. “I suspect it’s in your power to stop this war, to wage peace instead. Have you discouraged the hostilities? The retaliations?”

“Ethan,” Nessa sharply said, reprobation in her voice. But that didn’t seem to affect Ethan. And it didn’t soothe Vincent.

“I don’t care for your insinuations,” he said, rising suddenly, irritated magic filling the room. “Dawn is coming, and we will take our leave.”

“Vincent,” Nessa said, but he shook his head.

“I do not believe he is needed. But if you’re committed to his staying, we will send human comrades to see you safe during the day.”

Ethan’s brows lifted. “We are committed and appreciate the offer. But, as we noted, we thought Sheriff McKenzie was the only human in the valley.”

“There are humans in other towns who seek membership in the Clan,” Vincent said. “Those who wish to join us must show their dedication through a period of service. Including guard duty.”

“I see,” Ethan flatly said. He didn’t voice his concerns psychically or otherwise, but they weren’t hard to guess: Here, in a valley in Colorado, was a man building his own kingdom.

Vincent held out a hand to Nessa, who slipped her fingers into his.

“Thank you,” she said to Ethan, holding out her other hand to him, and linking them together, through her, for a moment. “We’ll be in touch at dusk.”

Ethan nodded. “Tom wanted you to look through the house, see if anything was missing. We can go with you.”

Nessa nodded, and the entourage moved to the door, Vincent and Nessa in front, Astrid and Cyril, who’d spoken not a single word, behind them.

When they reached the door, Vincent glanced back. “Do be careful here. There are many who are not what they seem.”

With that final thought, Vincent Marchand and the rest of his crew disappeared into darkness.

***

“Thoughts, Sentinel?” Ethan asked, when the door was closed and locked and the Clan was on the other side of it.

“He’s guarded, manipulative. Played the sycophant when he thought that would work, then switched tactics to aggressive. But he overplays both. He’s either very concerned for the welfare of his vampires or excellent at faking it.”

Ethan arched an eyebrow. “Your analytical abilities are becoming almost disturbingly acute.”

“Sentinel hears all, sees all. And right now, I see and hear a strong whiff of cult.”

Ethan nodded. “A cult leader, if he’s dangerous. A guru, perhaps, if he is not. A strong personality, with equally strong opinions, to whom, in this case, vampires gravitate. Nessa, at least during the time I knew her best, was searching for something more. She enjoyed travel, people, experiencing new things. But she seemed, at heart, discontented. I suppose her search brought her here.”

“And to Vincent.”

He nodded. “And, against Vincent’s wishes, to Taran.”

“Do you think he could have done this? Killed Taran in order to free her, to win her back?”

“I don’t know. I’ve known many like him in my lifetime—those who use their charisma to enthrall others, and those who believe they have a right to whomever they wish.”

I suspected he was thinking of Balthasar, his maker, but didn’t want him to dwell on that. “I’m guessing our other likely candidates are Rowan and Nessa. Rowan for revenge, Nessa for—well, who knows—but it sounds like she was the last person to see him alive. And riddle me this, Sullivan.” I gestured to the room. “If Taran studied history, taught night classes, where the hell did they get all this money? What does she do?”

“Her human family, I understand, had some wealth many, many years ago. She left them as a vampire but still inherited after they died.”

“And the rest is the miracle of compound interest.” I sighed, glanced at him. “So what do we do now?”

He smiled. “We call our friends and make our inquiries.”

That, I could do. “You take Gabriel. I’m going to call the Librarian.”

Ethan’s brows lifted. “Oh?”

“The feud,” I said. “It sounds like both sides have been keeping score for a very long time. I’d like to know, before Taran McKenzie, who was ahead.”

Ethan’s smile was grand, quick, and very pleased. “That’s my girl. Go find your facts, Sentinel. I’ll find us a shifter. And preferably an ally.”

***

The bedroom, like the rest of the house, was decorated with an eye toward nature. There was a rock-covered fireplace at one end of the room, a large bed across from it with a brass-legged bench at the end. A chandelier of twined antlers hung from the vaulted ceiling, and a bank of windows provided a view of the valley beyond. I regretted I wouldn’t be spending leisurely evenings enjoying it.

A landscape, an oil painting crackled with age, hung in a gilded gold frame on the wall across from the door. The greens and blues of sky and valley were lit by shafts of sunlight that seemed to glow from the canvas. So much beauty, apparently wasted on families who lusted instead for revenge.

When I’d showered in the attached bathroom—also enormous, and dominated by wood and granite—and changed into pajamas, I sat cross-legged on the bed and called up the Librarian.

I’d been a graduate student in English literature before becoming a vampire, and I’d rued, for a long time, that Ethan had named me Sentinel instead of the head of the House’s two-story and incredibly sexy library. But I’d turned out to be a pretty good Sentinel, and the library already had a very competent commander, if a grouchy one.