“You need a good woman to make your life easier.” Ruby rested her coffee carafe on the counter beside him.

Over the years, they had bantered many times like this before. His smile turned genuine. “You applying for the job?”

“Oh, sweet cheeks, if I was about forty-five years younger and a whole lot more stupid, I would hog-tie you and fight off all comers.” She gave him a wink. “But you would always be leaving in the middle of the night. Or you would come home scratched up and bloody, and not say a word about what happened. Some people can handle being the spouse of a cop or a soldier, yet I never was one of them. But we woulda had a lot of fun, you and me, before it all went to hell.”

Laughing, he pulled out his wallet. “We sure would have.”

“Put that away.” She tapped him on the shoulder with a gnarled finger. “You know better than that. Your money’s no good here.”

“I’ve always gotta offer, Ruby,” he said, although he tucked his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans.

She nodded with a grin. “That’s one of the many reasons why I would have hog-tied you. My ex? I had to take him to court for child support, and he always waits for somebody else to pay in a restaurant.”

“That’s not right.” He shook his head. “If I had a wife and child, I would do everything in my power to make their lives good, and they would never want for anything.”

I would fight for them, live for them.

Die for them, if need be.

The words sounded melodramatic over morning coffee, so while he thought them, he didn’t say them aloud.

“That’s another reason why I would have hog-tied you.” Smiling, Ruby looked at him over the rim of her glasses. “I don’t hafta tell you that people get crazy around masque-time. Be careful out there, and come back to see me real soon.”

“I will,” he promised.

Predictable as it had been, the exchange had lightened his mood, while the food had given him a surge of much-needed energy. Stepping out, he walked down the street, watching his surroundings carefully until he was certain he was a good half block away from anyone else, and he could sense no nearby magic.

Only then did he take out his cell phone and scroll through his contacts until he found the right one. He punched Call.

Voicemail kicked in. It was a robo-message, giving only the number, no name or any other identifier. He hung up without leaving a message and dialed again.

This time, the Vampyre Julian Regillus, the Nightkind King, picked up. “Graydon. Let’s save some energy and pretend you and I have already had a conversation about what time it is.”

In the background, Graydon heard a familiar feminine voice. Melisande, the Light Fae heir and Julian’s lover, said, “Did you say that was Graydon calling? Tell him hi for me.”

“Melly says hi,” Julian said into the phone. “We’re about to go to bed.”

“Don’t be mean!” Melly exclaimed.

Graydon bit back a smile. In New York, it was only eight in the morning, which meant that in Lake Tahoe, it had just turned five. For most people, depending on their race and personal habits, it was either too early or too late to be calling, unless the reason was urgent.

“Are you in New York for next week’s masque?” Graydon asked. “Or are you coming?”

“No,” Julian replied. “I haven’t talked to Xavier for a couple of weeks, but I think he’s planning to attend as regent. I meant it when I said I’m taking a year off. Melly and I are at home.”

Graydon leaned back against the brick wall of a building so he could watch the street in both directions. “Sorry to interrupt your vacation.”

“What’s going on?”

“Do you remember the conversation you and I had a couple of months ago in San Francisco?” He ran one hand through his hair. The snow had already damped the ends. “We talked about a mutual acquaintance. You shared sensitive intel.”

Earlier, in the spring, Melly had been kidnapped by one of the Nightkind council, and her mother Tatiana, the Light Fae Queen, had asked Graydon for help in finding her. Julian had actually been the one who found Melly.

Afterward, he had shared with Graydon confidential information about Malphas. Names of victims. Dates. Graydon’s entire investigation had been prompted by that small, vital list.

“I’m not likely to forget.” Julian’s voice had gone very alert and crisp. “Have there been new developments?”

“Yes, significant ones.” Graydon paused as he watched an elderly male cross at the nearest intersection. When the male turned the corner and disappeared from sight, he said, “Do you want to have a say in what comes next?”

“You’re damn right I do,” Julian growled.

Graydon nodded, unsurprised. “Things may happen quickly. How soon can you get to New York?”

“I’ll be there by the end of the day,” Julian told him.

Melly said, “You’re not going without me.” Something rustled. Suddenly she sounded much closer and clearer than she had before, almost as if she had climbed into Julian’s lap. “While we’re on our way, you’re going to explain how this fits into your concept of ‘vacation.’”

Julian said, “That’s complicated.”

“It’s always complicated.” Melly sounded amused.

Julian said, “Graydon, I’ll call you when we’re in town.”

“Sounds good. Talk to you later.”

Once he had disconnected, he continued down the street. In Wembley on that last morning, he had said the war might be a very long one. But not even he had conceived of just how long it would be.

He had never lain in wait for so long, or hunted with such extreme care. His prey had never been quite as dangerous as it was now, nor had the stakes ever been quite as high.