The seats were rapidly filling up. I recognized the regulars—at least some of them. Brett waved at me. Forever caught in geek-land, Brett had been turned while young. I wasn’t sure if he’d been in high school or college, but he’d been a nerdy, shy, comic-book-loving guy. After death, he decided to use his newfound vampiric powers to foster his superhero complex. And so Brett’s alter ego became Vamp-Bat, and he’d saved more than one woman from being attacked in his nightly rounds through the city.

There were others—Albert and Tad, both Microsoft em-ployees who worked the night shift. They’d kept their jobs and were actively working on the computer system for the Seattle Vampire Nexus, and the software was state of the art. The Supe Community Council had hired the pair to work with Tim Winthrop, the brains behind their computer network.

Of course, the most conspicuous absence was Sassy. The memory still stung. As if reading my mind, Wade swung up next to me and murmured, “Sassy would have been proud of what we’ve accomplished here.”

I nodded, unable to speak. Sassy’s death had hit me hard, especially since I’d been the one to cause it. But she’d strayed too far into her predator, and I’d fulfilled a promise I’d made to her. When I staked her, she was free to move on, and I’d seen her spirit leaving, with the young daughter she lost so long ago, and her best friend—Janet—who had been her faithful companion for most of her life.

Wade seemed to notice my silence. “It’s okay, Menolly. You did what she wanted you to. You did what she couldn’t. When the predator takes over, it’s almost impossible for a vampire to walk into the sunlight on their own. Sassy’s happy now. She’s reunited with her daughter, with her best friend. You gave her freedom.”

“I suppose I did,” I said, hanging my head. “But why do I feel like I destroyed one of the best friends I could have?”

“Shush…it’s over. You did what you had to. And sometimes, the right thing isn’t the easy thing.” He nodded toward the far corner of the room. “Roman’s over there. He’s talking to a few new members. They’re awestruck, of course. You might as well be dating a rock star.”

I snorted.

Nerissa, who had come up behind us, cleared her throat. “She may be his official consort, but she’s my fiancée.”

Wade grinned at her, the tip of his fangs barely showing. His spiky platinum hair was a brilliant contrast to his leather pants and button-down silk shirt. Wade was really quite cute, but I didn’t envy his current girlfriend. Let her cope with his mother.

“Touchy, touchy.” He laughed. “Roman knows perfectly well that you guys are engaged. He was mentioning earlier how well he thinks you suit each other.”

I wasn’t sure what to think of that, but I let it drop. “I need to ask the membership a few questions. We’ve got a missing OIA agent, and he was last seen around White Center. The fools sent him over here without checking what kind of an area they sent him into. While Andrees has a good head on his shoulders and can fight his way out of most situations, he’s never faced down a gun before, or a low-rider full of gang members.”

Wade whistled. “White Center? So not good. All right. I’ll make sure you’re first on the agenda so that people are still paying attention. They tend to drift off after about thirty minutes.”

We took our seats and Roman made his way over to us. He was wearing the requisite smoking jacket—this time in deep purple—and a pair of expensive black jeans and black motorcycle boots. Beneath the jacket, the ruffle of a cream-colored shirt peeked out. His hair was loose tonight, swinging to his shoulders in perfect precision; whoever cut it was an artist. I repressed a laugh. Roman really didn’t fit in with any crowd, that was for sure.

He leaned down and gently brushed my lips with a kiss, then reached for Nerissa’s hand. She offered it to him, and he lifted her fingers to his lips and planted a firm, quick kiss on the top of her hand. He held it for a beat longer than necessary and Nerissa’s breath quickened, then she pulled away.

“As always, it’s a pleasure to see my beautiful consort, and her beloved.”

Oh, he was courtly, all right, and the vampires around us were drinking it in. Several of the women shot me venomous looks, and I realized that they coveted my spot. I knew why, but even though I enjoyed Roman’s company, I would have happily given up the position, if I could have. I wasn’t cut out for courtside manners or decorum.

Roman settled in beside me, and his retinue of guards—some ten strong—followed suit, surrounding us with their presence. They included my sisters, Morio, and Rozurial within their protective circle.

Camille was sitting on the outside, next to Morio, and I glanced down the row at her. She was eyeing the vamp next to her with a combination of wariness and curiosity. He was a burly man, wearing dark glasses, and the standard garb that Roman’s contingent wore—black wraparound sunglasses, black turtleneck with the crest of Roman’s house on it, and black jeans.

I leaned close to Nerissa and whispered, “Looks like we’ve stumbled into some beatnik poetry slam.”

She snickered and covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a laugh. Roman glanced at me, amusement playing across his lips. He leaned over to whisper to both of us. “I happen to write poetry and if you two continue to make fun of my fashion choices for my bodyguards, I’ll make you listen to it.”

“It’s not Vogon poetry, is it?” Nerissa choked out.

Roman slapped his thigh with a thunderous laugh. “I’m afraid I can’t measure up to Douglas Adams’s standard for greatness, my dear.”

Just then, Wade took the podium. As always, he waved to the crowd and said, “Hi, I’m Wade, and I’m a vampire.”

“Hi, Wade!” the crowd thundered back.

Row by row, one by one, every vampire in the room stood, took their turn, and—like the “wave” in a sports arena—echoed the call.

It came to my turn. “Hi, I’m Menolly, and I’m a vampire.”

“Hi, Menolly!” The first few times, I’d developed a horrible case of the giggles when they’d echoed back to me, but now it was like an old shoe. While not fancy or flashy, the ritual was comforting.

As the meeting got under way, Wade had the secretary—my middle-aged daughter Erin—run through the minutes of the last meeting. I flashed her a smile and a wink. She had blossomed out the past month, and was coming into her own.

After the old business was finished, Wade said, “And now, Menolly D’Artigo has an urgent matter she wishes to speak to us about. Menolly—will you take the podium?”

I slid past the others in the row and stepped up to the podium. When renovating the mansion, Wade had had the construction workers build a three-foot-high stage in the front of the room in order for the speakers to be seen better. At my height, that was a good thing.

I tapped the microphone. “I won’t take up more time than necessary, but I have a couple of urgent questions. If anyone has any information, please see me and my sisters after the meeting, or call us if you remember anything. The desk will have our phone number.”

Pausing, I sought for the right way to approach the subject. “You know that my sisters and I are from Otherworld. We recently learned that a friend was sent over Earthside. He ended up in the White Center district of Seattle and has vanished. We’re worried about him. His name is Andrees, and he’s full-blood Otherworld Fae.” I ran down a description of him and added, “If you have seen him, or heard of him, or if you see him, please let us know.”

As a murmur went through the crowd—it always did after an announcement—I cleared my throat. “And on another subject, if anyone has any information on either the Aleksais Psychic Network, or someone by the name of Halcon Davis, would you please contact us. We just need to talk to them. Thank you.”

I leaped off the stage instead of using the stairs, noticing that Roman had leaned over to whisper something to Nerissa. Hoping he wasn’t pressuring her, I frowned and hurried toward them, but as I neared my seat, Camille held up her phone.

“Menolly, we have to book. We’ve got a problem.” She was already making her way toward the door, the others following her.

I glanced over at Wade and waved, then at Roman, who nodded his good-byes. As we headed to the door, I wanted to ask Nerissa what he’d said to her, but that would have to wait.

The look on Camille’s face was grim. “We can’t take Nerissa with us—it’s too dangerous.”

My girlfriend might be a werepuma but she wasn’t a trained fighter, and I wasn’t going to put her in more danger than she already was just because she was my fiancée. But I couldn’t leave her here alone, among a bunch of vampires.

Roman, who had followed us, said, “I’ll make sure she gets home safely. You have my word.”

I gazed into his eyes. They were unreadable. “You promise?”

“On my honor.” He looked past me to Nerissa. “Do you trust me to escort you back to the house?”

She nodded. “It’s all right, Menolly. I’ll meet you when you get home. Considering what’s going on, I don’t want to sleep at my condo tonight. Be safe, love.”

“I will. Don’t worry about me.” And with that matter resolved, I gave her a quick kiss. But I still fretted as I headed out the door.

“What’s up?” We hit the street just as the skies opened up and a downpour started. The streets glistened under the fat drops splattering to the ground, and the ripples in the puddles shimmered under the street lights.

Drenched, Camille held up her phone. “Chase texted me—he said there’s something going down over at the monastery.”

I blinked. “Seattle has a monastery?”

She shrugged. “Well, it was a monastery at one time, that started out as an old mansion. A group of Buddhists took it over in the early 1950s. But in the late sixties, the monks abandoned it, claiming it was haunted, and they couldn’t put the spirits to rest. Nobody really paid much attention, until recently, when the land was purchased by friends of Chase. They started renovations last month, I think. I gather this afternoon, all hell broke loose and they called Chase because they didn’t know what else to do.”

I had a nasty feeling that I already knew the answer, but had to ask. “Where is this mansion?”

Camille nodded. “You guessed it. The Greenbelt Park District.”

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Of course it is. Of course it’s in the Greenbelt Park District.” I kicked the curb and almost broke one of my toes. The toe didn’t bother me—it would have healed up so fast I would have barely noticed it. But I’d scuffed my new boots and that was the icing on the cake. “Hell. I just bought these. Now look!”

The Greenbelt Park District was the most haunted district in Seattle. Somehow, the ghosts had taken over. We didn’t know why they congregated there, but congregate they did.

We hurried toward the parking lot that Wade had built on the property.

I pulled out my keys. “It occurs to me that we should trace the roots of why the district is so overrun with ghosts. My first thought is that it’s the fault of the rogue portals.”

“That wouldn’t make sense, though. The rogue portals are a recent occurrence. The hauntings have been going on for decades in that area. There must be something that pulls the ghosts there—that stirs them up.” Morio headed toward the Lexus. Roz opted to ride with them again, too. “Camille will text you the directions.”

Camille held up her phone in one hand while she opened the driver door of her Lexus with the other. “Already done. See you there, and drive carefully. The roads are slick with all the rain tonight.” She, Morio, and Roz headed out first.

I followed. As I plugged the directions into the GPS, I was dismayed to see how close the haunted monastery—or mansion, or whatever it was—was to the underground lair that Charles, a vampire serial killer, had nested in. Yeah, definitely the Greenbelt Park District.

As I sped through the silent streets, following my sisters, I mulled over what Morio had said. He was right—with the hauntings going on for so many decades, there was no real way it could be Shadow Wing or the portals at fault.

Sometimes, an atrocity could scar the land, make it a haven for ghosts and spirits. When a series of murders or horrible acts took place in one area, the spirits could latch onto the land. Or, sometimes, the energy of the acts twisted and tainted it in some way. I didn’t fully understand the concept—that was more up Camille’s alley—but I knew that some places felt evil. More often than not, something horrible had happened there.

The Greenbelt Park District was shrouded in history. The buildings had a weathered feel to them; they were old stonework, gray and beaten down by the rains. The masons who’d worked on them didn’t build a development—they had built one building at a time, to the specifications of the old money that had lived here. Even the buildings and houses that had been abandoned or let go had an aura of mystery to them, and a quiet, decrepit elegance.

Seattle was known as the Emerald City because it was rich in trees, and the Greenbelt Park District more than lived up to its name. Looming firs and cedars overhung the streets in the residential areas. A number of the shops were interspersed with old, crumbling apartment buildings. The neighborhoods still had people living in them, but a lot of the stores sat empty, and there was a deserted, uneasy feel to the streets.

Following Camille, I turned right on Foster. The street narrowed and I wove in and out around the few parked cars. They were nice cars, but older makes, and weathered as if the owners didn’t have the money to keep them up. The ever-present trees crowded the streets, their branches leaning on power lines that stretched across the roads.