2. Liang, Liang, Liang

It was close to eleven when Clive and Liang arrived to find me sitting at a table in an empty, darkened bar, staring at the waves and wondering what the hell.

"I'd assumed there'd be more people." Liang, a visiting vampire and one of Clive's gorgeous exes glanced in the bookstore entrance, no doubt looking for a hidden crowd.

Of course he'd bring Liang. Yes, she was an old and very powerful ally, one who was committed to helping Clive find out who was targeting him and his nocturne of vampires. Did she have to be so freaking beautiful and perfect all the time, though? Stupid luminous, unscarred skin, golden brown eyes, glossy black hair, she was the worst.

"Where is everyone?" Clive pulled a chair over and sat beside me, his hand resting on my thigh. "I called earlier. It was so noisy, Owen couldn't hear me."

"Yeah." I picked up his hand and held it between both of mine. "It started off great." I watched Liang inspect my bookstore bar. Squeezing his hand, I added, "Everybody came, and most brought friends. We were packed."

Leaning over, he kissed my temple. "I told you."

The kitchen door swung open and Dave stalked out, causing Liang to freeze. "Yeah, it's all fun and games until someone tries to slit your throat." He slid a plate with a shrimp po'boy and fries in front of me. "Eat. What the fuck am I supposed to do with all the food I cooked?"

Ignoring a stiff, blinking Liang, he went behind the bar and poured himself a tumbler of cinnamon schnapps and me a soda.

"I guess the shelters are going to be enjoying Cajun food tonight." I hadn't thought to eat earlier, but he was right. Now that the food was in front of me, I was starving.

Dave dropped into the chair on my other side.

"What are you talking about? Who had their throat slit?" Clive's voice chilled the air.

Dave pointed to the side of my neck opposite Clive. Owen's sister Lilah, a healer, had already worked on me. I was fine, although I now had yet another scar.

Biting into the po'boy, I shrugged. "Little cut." Turning to Dave, I added, "So good," around a mouthful of spicy shrimp.

He tipped his glass to me, acknowledging the compliment, before finishing half the booze in one gulp.

I didn't see him move. Clive was suddenly crouched next to Dave, his finger lightly tracing the new scar on my neck. "Who attacked you?"

"Liam." Dave downed the rest of his drink and shook his head. "A fucking selkie gets the drop on her. The bar's filled with just about every powerful being in San Francisco and the asshole swims through the ocean entrance, walks across a crowded bar—naked—and jumps over the bar, trying to kill her."

"Liam? Why in the world would Liam attack you?" Clive was fuming, I could sense it, but he kept his voice and body language in check.

Swallowing first, I said, "Not his fault. Abigail's back—Dave traced the spell—and she's apparently going for friends since she can't get me." Taking a sip of soda to wash down Dave's incredible food, I added, "Everyone was shocked. No one moved. Dave was in the kitchen and he was still the first to help, to pull him off me."

I stared at my food, wanting to eat but knowing Clive needed answers. "You know Liam. He's quiet, thoughtful. Slight. He was the first one here a few months ago when I was shot. The mermaid who'd rescued me told him and he raced here to help. He's a sweet person who's well-liked."

Dave nodded in agreement. "The place was festive as fuck. They didn't see a threat when they looked at him."

"I doubt anyone even saw him snatch the knife when he dove over the bar. I didn't yell for help because I didn't need it." Clive opened his mouth to respond but I shook my head. "I didn't. He's a selkie. I could have taken him easily, but it's Liam. I didn't want to hurt him. I could see there was something wrong with him. I ended up breaking both his arms to get him off me. The sound was horrible. Thankfully, Lilah was here and able to heal them. If he wasn't able to swim, he'd probably die. A selkie can't be separated from the water for long."

A heavy silence was broken when Liang asked, in her stupid, perfect British accent, "Who is Abigail?"

I let Clive handle that one while I finished my dinner.

"Abigail is Sam's aunt. She takes exception to Sam's existence." He ran a hand down my back in comfort, rising and returning to his seat while spearing Dave with his gaze. "If you were able to track the spell, why are you here and why isn't Abigail dead?"

Dave blew out a breath, angled himself toward the ocean, and snaked his foot around the legs of an empty chair, dragging it to him. "I don't answer to you, son, so watch your tone." He put his feet up on the chair, ignoring Clive's anger. "And don't try and pull your Jedi mind tricks on me. That shit only works when I'm not paying attention."

"He tried," I said.

"Fucking-A. Bitch felt me tracing and broke the spell. She's nearby, but that's all I got. She probably had to be close to control him."

Liang finally moved to our table and sat on Clive's other side, her hand briefly on his arm as though encouraging him to calm. The presumption of laying hands on my mate made me want to tear off her arm and smack her across the face with it.

"Why does your aunt desire your death?" Liang asked, all quiet concern and interest.

If I hadn't recently discovered my own necromantic abilities, I might have bought it. Yearning for Clive lurked behind her every word and gesture.

Since Clive and Dave were pissed off, I finished the last of the fries and responded. "My father was a born wolf—as you know—and my mother was a Corey wicche, an ancient and powerful line of wicches. My aunt believes my mother bespoiled a long, pure line of wicches with me."

Dave snorted, "Bespoiled."

"Couldn't your mother—"

"Dead."

Liang leaned forward. "Your father, then. He—"

"Dead." This conversation was just getting more and more depressing.

"Surely you have some family member who could aid you." Again with the quiet concern. I wanted to flick her right between the eyes.

Dave chuffed a laugh and stood, taking my empties up to the bar. He returned a moment later with a cocktail for me.

I took a sip. A perfect lemon drop. "Thanks."

Nodding, he put his feet back up, crossed his arms, and watched the waves swirl around the glass.

Both Clive and Dave were letting me decide how much to share. I was self-aware enough to understand that my issues with Liang stemmed from my own insecurities. The other vampires in the nocturne loved her, wanted her to be Clive's special someone. Mostly, I didn't care. It just got to me sometimes.

Vampires were all about the long game. Clive might love me now, but she doubted he'd feel the same in a few years, a few decades, a century? Biding their time, for good or ill, was a hallmark of their creed.

After another sip, I reluctantly responded. "As far as I know, I'm the last Quinn, and she and I are the last Coreys. I think. Honestly, I have no idea." I toyed with the martini glass, turning it this way and that, catching the moonlight. "She's more skilled and more powerful than me."

"Not more powerful," Clive began.

"She's a fucking sorcerer," Dave cut in. "That power isn't all hers."

Shrugging, I continued, "Regardless of how she has it, she's stronger than I am and has been training for this her whole life. I've only had access to my wicche heritage for a few months. I have no idea if I possess any buried skills that can best her."

I also had no intention of telling Liang, or any vampire, that I was a necromancer, that I could sense the presence of vampires, read their thoughts and emotions, even control their actions. I didn't have a death wish. The only vampires who knew were Clive, his second Russell, and his third Godfrey, none of whom would betray me—I was pretty sure—and none of whom actually knew the extent of my abilities.

I hadn't even told Clive that I'd once searched deep in my own mind and found cold, green vampire blips in small groupings across the planet, or that I'd read the thoughts of a vamp half a world away. I'd tell him—I would—once the implications of what that might mean didn't leave me in a cold sweat.

Clive rested his hand on mine. "I assume Liam's murder attempt put a damper on the evening?"

"Yeah. They all started leaving after that." They'd been so happy—well, except for Grim, naturally—when they'd arrived. I couldn't stomach the looks of dread and pity they'd given me when they left.

"How is he now?" Clive asked.

"He's been better. When he came out of the trance, he curled in on himself, shaking horribly. If Lilah hadn't been here to help, I don't know what we would have done. In the end, we helped him slip into his seal skin and return to the ocean."

"Probably the best thing for him," Dave said. "Might heal better."

"Yeah." Poor Liam. I hated my aunt, truly hated her. She didn't care who she hurt in order to get to me.

"All right." Clive stood, tugging on my arm. "Up you get." When I rose, Clive slid an arm around me and snugged me close. "We'll go home. You'll sleep. And we'll meet here tomorrow after closing to discuss what's to be done about your aunt."

"Kill her," Dave grumbled, kicking the chair.

"Maybe we could get Coco to make a spelled chain that encircles The Slaughtered Lamb, so everyone who visits is in control of their own mind." Like the choker she'd made me kept my mind safe.

"Sure," Dave said, hitting the lights. "And then what happens when you walk out the door? You don't live in the back of your hobbit hole anymore." He started up the stairs. "It's not even midnight. Maybe I'll take Maggie dancing." He was through the ward and gone.

Clive tugged my braid, tilting my face up to his, and gave me a kiss. "I'm sorry the evening didn't end well. Now"—he gave me a quick squeeze—"where's your jacket?"

"Um." I glanced around the bar, retracing my steps, trying to remember when I'd taken it off. "On the couch in my apartment."

Clive went to retrieve it, leaving Liang and me alone.

"Your establishment is magnificent. Clive mentioned this was your brainchild." Her perfect features glowed in the moonlight. She was, quite simply, stunning.

I struggled to build a wall against her emotions, struggled and failed. "Yes. If the rules of the mundane world didn't need to be adhered to, I imagined what was possible. I didn't really know Clive then, but he put me in touch with the people who could make my dream a reality."

Liang nodded. "This seems to be a comfortable and rewarding life you've carved out for yourself. Congratulations." Smiling, she turned to watch the waves.

As I couldn't completely block her, I also knew she thought that, unlike the bookstore and bar, there was nothing particularly beautiful or extraordinary about me. Clive's attachment baffled her.