The low sound of bluesy jazz seemed to suit my mood better than the cheerful swing standards the set had started with. I leaned back in my seat as the mood changed, trying to ignore my aching heart. Whatever our differences, Sirje would always be special to me. We had shared a connection unfathomably intense and powerful even among relationships between our own kind. I considered the connection between sire and progeny to be something unique, mystical in its depths.

Most vampires were solitary creatures. It came with being an alpha predator. For such a long time, Sirje and I had broken from that mold. Together, we fought wars and chased passions, watched kingdoms burn and all the scourges of God that existed ravage the world, risked death and worse for the sheer thrill. Always together. The idea that she might want me dead was a poisoned blade in my heart, burning worse than even the light of the sun itself.

I heard the soft sound of fingers dancing across piano keys and looked up. There was Olivia, as weathered and heartbroken as she had seemed when I first saw her. I wondered then what had hurt her so. There was something about the depths of her sorrow that drew me inexorably in. Her voice soothed even when her song of loss stung me, too close an echo of all the things I was thinking. She was so engrossed in her song that she didn't seem to glance my way.

I watched her enraptured. Vampires are sensitive to the emotions around them, considering connection through them is vital to our feeding. Hers blanketed the stage, stirring up the same longings and bittersweet feelings in everyone who heard her. Was this how Odysseus had felt, tied to a mast listening to the song of sirens?

When the last few notes faded, it broke my hurting heart. I would never get tired of hearing her voice and I wanted it to last forever.

Olivia looked across the applauding crowd, hunting for something. She stopped when her amber eyes locked with mine, lips curving into a smile that seemed equal parts warmth and relief.

She was surprised to see me, I knew that much from her expression. I knew then that she was a woman used to disappointment. It was gratifying to see her happy, even for a moment.

Dieter nudged me with an elbow. "I'll keep watch if you want to talk to her," he said seriously. "Just, you know, be careful. We don't know if she's with them or not."

It was a point of warning that I wasn't about to discard out of hand. My long life had taught me that caution was warranted for a creature like me moving through the world. The most pleasant of roses could still harbor a deadly spider. So long as I could control my response to the situation, I could manage with a clear head. Losing that was the only real risk.

I stepped over to the bar where we'd spoken last time, settling into the shadier part. This time, I was in casual attire: well-fitting jeans, sensible shoes, a low-cut shirt, and a kevlar jacket that had a few rips repaired from knife cuts that had mercifully failed to pierce the tough material. Most body armor was unnecessary, but I preferred to avoid being slashed open whenever possible. If hunters were truly breathing down the back of my neck, whoever had sent them, it was better to dress for a fight. I'd even pulled my hair back into a loose bun, slightly harder for someone to grab than when it hung loose.

Olivia's approach was swift. She breezed right past the congratulations of her fellow musicians to find me by the bar. "Hey."

I turned to face her, leaning an elbow against the bar. "Your performance was stunning...and you look lovely tonight." The deep green cocktail dress she wore suited her perfectly and her hair was swept back into a ponytail. She was more dressed for the Internationale than I was, but then again, I doubted anyone was trying to kill her.

"I could say the same." Her smile faded slightly. "Is there something wrong?"

I offered her a faint smile, but thoughts of Sirje left it tinged with sadness. "A blue night. I am certain you understand."

She nodded and focused on the bar for a minute, thinking up a good reply. "Well, what are you drinking?"

"Unfortunately, I am not partial to alcohol," I said wryly. I knew from experience, usually after draining an alcoholic, that my body was not meant to handle that particular poison. Dieter had found me retching horribly at least once. "I am allergic."

Olivia winced. "I'm sorry. Do you mind if I...?"

My smile returned. "By all means."

"Thanks. I think I need a little Dutch courage right now." She put in her order for a whiskey sour and then turned to face me at the bar, that blush slowly creeping in.

I arched an eyebrow at her, but the smile playing across my lips softened the expression. "And why is that?" The anxiety I felt from her came in time with a fluttering heartbeat. Not fear of me, but certainly of potential rejection.

She pulled in a deep breath. "I've never..." Her amber eyes focused on me as much as she might have liked to look away. "I mean, you are..." Another deep breath and her whiskey sour arrived. "I was going to ask you for your phone number."

I leaned in, letting my fingertips trail up her arm. She shivered slightly as my cool touch left goosebumps in its wake. "I would be happy to part with it. Is that all, Olivia?"

If she still remembered we were in public, it wasn't clear from the way her eyes flashed dark. "It's a place to start," she said, fingers closing around the glass of her drink.

"Well, if there is anything else you desire, it would be my pleasure to indulge you." I couldn't help the hint of a purr in my voice, not that I would have stopped it if I could have. My phone buzzed in my pocket, probably Dieter, but this time I had it on silent and refused to pay it mind. I caught her hand and pulled a pen out of my jacket pocket.

She laughed when I wrote my number on her hand. "So I won't lose it?" she said. Her amusement transmuted into something else when I kissed the inside of her wrist. "O-oh."

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It was a mistake on my part. The brief touch of her pulse and the waves of desire flooding off of her stirred at the Hunger, even with my recent feeding. Disruption during the day always drained more energy than it should have. For a brief moment, I forgot what I was doing even as I leaned back. I looked into amber eyes and deeply regretted that I no longer had a safe room here in the hotel. "I would hope you might remember me."

My phone buzzed again and again. Either Dieter or Charles was being unusually persistent, but I was thoroughly distracted and wished to remain that way.

Olivia cleared her throat. "There's no danger of me forgetting, I promise."

I laughed. "Do you even remember my name?"

A challenge flared in those eyes. "I think I remember your name better than mine right now, Malle." She hesitated a second and then forged ahead, drink forgotten. "Are you a guest here?"

"I was, but I will be departing in an hour or two. Something came up."

She looked crestfallen for a moment. "Will you still be in L.A.? I'd like to...well..." That wonderful blush hit her cheeks again. "I'd like to spend some time getting to know you."

I smiled. "Oh, I think that can be arranged."

"Deal, then," she said with a grin.

My phone started actively ringing, buzzing in my pocket loudly enough to be audible. I sighed slightly and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "I have to go."

"Here," she said quickly, taking my pen. She wrote her number on my hand, earning a laugh from me. "Call me tomorrow. I don't have a gig."

"Of course. Have a wonderful evening," I said smoothly, stepping away. I made certain there was a good amount of distance between us before I answered Dieter's phone call, hunting for any sign of him in the vicinity. "Is whatever it is really so important?"

"Yeah," he said completely seriously. "Check your texts."

I sighed and looked down. Something inside me froze. The picture was of Olivia's back, I could tell by the position of the bar. He'd taken it from an angle that exposed a small tattoo at the nape of her neck.

It was a very familiar eye looking out of the center of a stylized rose.

I cursed and then put my phone up to my ear again. "Meet me in the lobby." I hung up and stalked through the crowd.

Dieter beat me there, brows furrowed thoughtfully. "She didn't give you any weird feeling, Malle?"

"There was no recognition or fear from her. I would have sensed it," I said quietly, stepping in and straightening his tie. "Whatever the situation, she had no idea who I was."

He put an arm around my shoulders, steering me over towards Marie. "She might be a way to get more information on this group. If she really hasn't pegged you as what you are, maybe the old seduction route would work."

I thought of those heartbroken eyes. While I was not a woman normally moved by sentiment, I knew what that felt like and had no desire to inflict it on another. "Whatever I do with her, I am not doing to gain leverage or information," I said harshly. "I have no desire to be some manipulative puppet master."

"Can we at least agree that we need to find out more about her? I don't want you getting close to her if she's dangerous," Dieter said firmly.

I bowed my head slightly. "I will concede to that."

He relaxed when I agreed, some of his worry eased. "I'll put Charlie on it." Then he looked over at Marie. "What have you got for us?"

Marie scrubbed at her short hair. "So dayshift said Hugh was acting really weird in the morning. Muttering to himself, tugging on his hair, generally looking as stressed as a suspension bridge in an earthquake. Like he was struggling with himself. I guess he really didn't want to hurt you. Maybe that's why he shot himself. Here, see for yourself." She held out her phone and played a segment of video from the hallway just outside the security office.

Hugh looked like an entirely different man than the one I knew, pasty and sweating as he paced and plucked at his hair. I suspected that the glassy look in his eyes meant that someone had fed on him. "Do you still have his body?" I asked, continuing to watch the video. There was no sound, but his lips were moving as he muttered. I couldn't tell what he was saying.

The head of security for the Internationale glanced over at Dieter, then nodded. "Downstairs. Come on. We haven't notified his family yet, but we're going to have to. That's going to be a bloody mess, no pun intended."

I followed Marie with long strides, a frown etched into my features.

The body of Hugh Granger was a mess, at least his head. I approached his still form while Marie gave us a summary of the last of the logs, mostly for Dieter's benefit. I had stopped listening to her and focused on that sixth sense my rebirth had given me.

He was cold and dead, a shell of the man he was, but there were echoes of another presence leeching off of him. A vampire, yes, but not Sirje. I leaned down over the body, pulling open his shirt. I put a hand flat over his heart.

"Malle can look over the body," Dieter said calmly, as if what I was doing was completely normal. "Marie, could you bring his belongings down? I want to see if there's anything weird that was in his pockets."

Marie looked over at me and hesitated, then nodded. She headed back up the stairs, closing the door behind her.

I turned his head, revealing pink scars matching fangs near his jugular. Not enough to kill, but enough to draw blood. They'd closed the wound using the healing factor of vampire saliva, a sign of a careful feeder. "They did not want this discovered." I leaned down and swiped a finger through the wound to his head, drawing enough blood onto my hand to taste. "Who did this to you?"

Even in death, sometimes there were glimpses left over, things the eyes had seen that were not entirely gone, but instead imprinted in memory. Most vampires lacked the strength of will and knowledge to draw it out, but I was old and well versed in such an art.

There was a brief flash of a man's face, fanged and grinning. He looked like a model, with dark hair, a square jaw, and strikingly blue eyes. You're going to do me a little favor, Mr. Granger.

I licked my finger clean. "Vampire. Young. Male."

"Competition, maybe?" Dieter ventured.

I turned Hugh's head, but there was no sign of the mark on the back of his neck. "I do not know, but he was powerful enough to sway Hugh for a relatively long time. At least a day, if not longer, depending on how much he siphoned off. The whispering in his mind was a madness beyond enduring for him, it seems."

"You can control people longer than that, Malle."

"I have considerably more experience." I cursed softly. "Not vampire hunters, then. Some cult assembled to do the bidding of one of my kind, it seems. I do not understand the purpose. Why harass me?"

"One had a submachine gun. I think you need a stronger word than 'harass'," Dieter said pointedly.

I turned to look at him. "Perhaps Sirje created another line, besides myself."

Dieter blinked. "I mean, it's not impossible. Especially if she thought you died in Paris. Maybe she got away and turned someone else."

"If that is the case, this is progeny well down the line. This one was young," I muttered. I looked over at him and sighed heavily. "This will be more dangerous for you than me, Dieter. A vampire could destroy you utterly."

His jaw tightened. "I'm not leaving you, Malle. I can handle a lot of danger and a lot of punishment."

I stepped close to him and again fussed with his tie. "You are a darling man and there is no one I would rather have watching my back, but I would much rather you return to Vienna."

Dieter snorted. "Fat chance. I'd rather bite a bullet than ditch you when you really need me, Malle. For one, I owe you. For two, you're my partner."

"You long ago paid off your debt."

"Maybe, but that doesn't change the second half," Dieter said firmly. "I know how to kill a vampire, courtesy of you. This guy, whoever he is, is gonna be staked out in the sun as screaming ash if I get my hands on him."

I rested my head against his shoulder and sighed, well aware that there was no way I could talk Dieter out of staying. As tempting as it was to compel him for his own good, I promised myself long ago that his free will trumped my opinion of what was in his best interest. I kept my promises. "If nothing I can say will dissuade you, very well."