"Have you seen the casinos on the light side of the planet?" A female reporter asked.

"Yes," I replied, without thinking.

"You can walk in daylight?" She sounded incredulous.

"Her Larentii mates may supply a shield for her, if it is needed," Connegar replied stiffly. He wasn't lying, he could do that—he just didn't have to.

"Oh my, we have a Larentii speaking during an interview," another reporter sighed in bliss.

"You have Larentii mates?" Someone else asked.

"I have two," I said.

"These two, here?"

"Yes."

"How many mates do you have?"

"Thirteen, I think," I said. That got chuckles. Reth Alliance worlds recognized multiple mates.

"Are the other eleven vampires?"

"No. Only three are vampires," I said. "The others, well, one is Kifirin—I assume you recognize that name?" They nodded—they'd seen the tapes of my coronation, I'm sure. "Two Larentii, two Falchani, one Karathian Warlock, one High Demon, one Grey House Wizard, one Refizani and one comesula."

"Can you get us a discount with Grey House?" Someone joked.

"I don't have any influence on the pricing structure for Grey House," I said. That got another laugh. The interview was over shortly after. I shooed the reporters and their crews into the state dining room, where food and drinks would be served. I had to go, too, unfortunately; it was a reception, after all, and the crews were still filming while the rest of us mingled. Wlodek, Adam and Merrill were talking business with one reporter, who wrote for a gambling vid-magazine.

"Your husband died on the same day you were turned? These are delicious," the reporter was eating an oxberry tart. A specialty of Cheedas'.

"Yes and yes," I said. "My comesula cook loves to make those for my non-vampire residents." He made them for some of the vampire residents as well, but we weren't going to let that cat out of the bag.

"Raona, Reemagar said you were thirsty before he left." Roff was at my side, handing me a bottle of blood substitute. I took it and smiled at him. He leaned down to give me a quick peck. Well, that was going to be plastered all over the news immediately.

"How does that taste?" The reporter asked, curious.

"Like blood," I said. "It's the best substitute I've ever had." I drank from my bottle. Also something that would be plastered on the news.

"May I try some?" Well, he was an adventurous soul. I nodded to Roff, who motioned for someone to bring another bottle. These were room temperature—better if you liked blood. Worse if you didn't.

"Yes, it tastes the same as when I cut myself," the reporter grimaced and handed the bottle back to the comesula waiter.

"Thanks," I told the comesula. He smiled at me and took the bottle away.

"These are the next wave of vampires?" The reporter meant the comesuli.

"Yes. They normally live a life span of six hundred years, barring accidents. If they are worthy when they are dying, the turn is attempted. Not all will be turned."

"Have any been turned since Le-Ath Veronis became inhabited again?"

"Not yet, but we are watching some of the older ones closely. When the time comes, we will act." I drank more of my blood substitute. I thought briefly about calling it BS before reconsidering.

"If they don't want the turn?"

"What about humanoids wanting the turn?"

"Highly unlikely, at this point. I won't say impossible, because very little is impossible. I will not entertain applications for vampirism. Those will be returned unopened," I replied. "Female humanoid vampires are very rare. The mere attempt at turning a female humanoid almost always results in her death. It is suicide to attempt it."

"What do you think the success rate is?"

I had to call Wlodek over to get an answer. The reporter repeated his question. "Perhaps one female in twenty-five thousand attempts will make it," Wlodek replied smoothly, his dark eyes betraying no emotion. If anybody would know, he would. There had been few females on Earth and none on Refizan or Beliphar. The other six worlds whose vampires now lived on Le-Ath Veronis had maybe a handful between them.

"And the success rate for turning male humanoids?"

"Nine out of ten are successful," Wlodek knew that answer right away.

"That's a huge discrepancy," the reporter whistled. "What do you think is the cause?"

"I have spent three thousand years attempting to find an answer and have personally reached no verifiable conclusions," Wlodek replied enigmatically.

* * *

"Gabron, stay with us for a little while," Shala coaxed. She and Elthine had wandered around the brothel naked, taken several clients and now they were off the clock. Shala had the tip of a nail under Gabron's chin, smiling at him. She was slightly taller than he was and rubbed her body suggestively against his. Elthine, not to be outdone, was at Gabron's shoulder. "We will make your day worthwhile," she kissed his cheek. Gabron nodded and they led him toward a room.

Chapter 9

Arvil San Gerxon paced. Sat down, angrily rearranged items on his desk and rose to pace again. The vampire planet was all over the news networks. The first week's take had far exceeded every projection. And customers were coming away from the place happy. There were winners and losers as always, but this was completely unexpected. He'd walked through his own casinos, listening carefully while his customers discussed Le-Ath Veronis even as they gambled on Campiaa.

Many of his high rollers were discussing trips to the vampire planet—they'd already applied for tickets and were waiting to hear if their applications had been accepted. The hidden deals that might be brokered on Campiaa could be brokered anywhere—they didn't need Arvil's casinos for that. And the gambling payouts were regulated and certainly better on Le-Ath Veronis—those were mandated by Reth Alliance laws.

Arvil was not willing to accept this—it could certainly affect his business concerns and cut into his profits. Theos was scheduled to return to Campiaa in two days. Arvil had gotten information daily from his employee, as requested. Theos was a good servant and completely under his thumb. As quickly as he could review the information provided, Arvil planned to get his management and security teams together to see if it could be exploited in any way.

Arvil sighed. The interview with the Queen of Le-Ath Veronis had received more airtime than it deserved. Who cared that she'd caught a criminal during the interview—the man had accepted a bribe to pass information over to some archaic religious sect. Arvil snorted. More than likely, it had all been set up for the public's entertainment. He could do the same, if he wanted. Perhaps he should consider it. The Larentii, though, that was a stroke of genius. Who could have imagined that any of the blue giants could be bought or convinced in some way to pose there with the Vampire Queen? Unheard of. If they were Larentii. Perhaps she'd hired two Warlocks to present themselves as Larentii. A possibility to look into.

Arvil had begun building casinos on the property abandoned by Erland Morphis and A&M Consortium. He would not be losing business over this. He'd still draw the criminal element; they always had money, but the regular, wealthy customers? They might all be lured away and it was never wise to cheat the non-Alliance criminals that came to Campiaa to gamble. He always made sure they won frequently.

Theos and the information that he would provide upon his return—information that couldn't be sent through normal channels—was what Arvil waited for. His eyes gleamed at the prospect. This was a challenge and Arvil was more than up for it. If he could damage Le-Ath Veronis and its bitch Queen, he would—in any way possible.

* * *

"Why am I buried in fan mail?" I had everything from scented paper notes to electronic messages. Grant was doing his best to coordinate everything and had drafted form letters that could be personalized and sent back. He also pulled out the ones that sounded threatening and turned those over to Gavin and Tony (which could be a mistake) and the special ones he held out for a personal reply. Erland had come in two days after the interview, saying that my fan clubs (I had them and didn't know) were having parties just to watch the footage. People were dressing up as one of my mates or me and having theme parties.

"It won't do a bit of good to do another interview," Erland laughed at me. "They're not interested in finding something better to do, even if you tell them that. Somebody already tried it. It didn't work."

"And we have the requests for personal meetings," Grant handed a stack of papers and a comp-vid to me.

"Oh, Lord, what next?" I muttered.

"Did you address me?" Erland laughed. Yeah, he was Lord Erland Morphis, but he wasn't the one I meant. I thought a good elbow in his ribs might shut him up. I leafed through the requests. I was about to hand all of them back to Grant when something made my hand tingle. I went back through the stack slowly, until I got to the tingly one again and pulled it out. Someone named Theos Wimple had asked for an audience.

"Bring this one in," I handed it to Grant. "As quickly as possible."

"Want me to stand guard with you?" Erland offered a blindingly beautiful smile and then took a chance and kissed me. The kiss was nice. He seemed surprised that I didn't hit him afterward. "We'll work on more of that later."

"Uh-huh. How are your guarding skills?"

"I can create a gate and send them somewhere they never expected to go," Erland grinned.

"Good enough." I watched as Grant contacted Theos Wimple on the communicator and told him we'd have a car sent for him right away.

He was in my office in less than an hour and Drake and Drew had come along to back Erland up. Erland recognized Theos right away; Theos cringed and whimpered when he saw Erland.