"You're sure you missed October? You didn't just count wrong?" Ronnie asked.

I shook my head and stared into my coffee cup. "I'm two weeks overdue."

I'd stopped telling Ronnie all my bad stuff years ago, when my cases as a legal vampire executioner had gotten so much bloodier than her cases as a private eye. Now I was a federal marshal along with most of the other legal vamp hunters in the United States. It meant that I had even more access to even more awful shit. Things that Ronnie, or any of my female friends didn't want to know about. I didn't fault them. I'd rather not have had that many nightmares in my own head. No, I didn't fault Ronnie, but it meant that some of the most awful stuff couldn't be shared with her. I was just glad we'd made up a long-standing grumpiness in time to have her here for this particular disaster. I was able to talk about the bad parts of the cases with some of the men in my life, but I couldn't have shared the missed period with any of them. It concerned one of them entirely too much.

"If Louie wasn't hiding what he was from his colleagues we'd be going to the big party tonight," she said.

"College isn't kids, it's definitely grown-up."

"Parents won't see it that way," I said. I looked at her, and finally said, "Are you changing the subject?"

"It's only two weeks, Anita, after one of the most violent cases you've ever had. I wouldn't even loose sleep over it."

"Yeah, but you're period is erratic, mines not. I've never been two weeks late before."

She pushed a strand of blond hair back behind her ear. The new hair cut framed her face nicely, but it didn't stay out of her eyes, and she was always pushing it back.

I shook my head, and sipped coffee. It was cold. I got up and went to dump it in the sink.

"What's the latest you've ever been?" she asked.

"Two days, I think five once, but I wasn't having sex with anyone, so it wasn't scary. I mean unless there was a star in the east I was safe, just late." I poured coffee from the French press, which emptied it. I was so going to need more coffee.

"Let me run this back at you. You've never been two weeks late, ever, and you've never missed a whole month before?"

"Not since this whole mess started when I was fourteen, no."

"I always envied you the regular as clock work schedule," she said.

"Shit," she said, softly.

"You can say that again."

"You need a pregnancy test," she said.

"No, shit." I dumped the grounds into the trash can, and shook my head. "I can't go shopping for one tonight."

Jean-Claude, Master Vampire of the City of St. Louis, and my sweetie, was throwing one of the biggest bashes of the year to welcome to town the first ever mostly vampire dance company. He was one of their patrons, and when you spend that much money you apparently get to spend more to throw a party to celebrate that the money was helping the dance troupe find rave reviews in their cross-country tour. There was going to be national and international media there tonight. It was like a big deal, and I as his main squeeze had to be on his arm, smiling, and dressed up. In fact I was due at his place in about an hour to have him get me into what I was wearing. I'd never have been able to get myself decked out for something like this, not without help. The dress alone needed a maid. But strangely, appearing in public in a formal dress that had a corset for a bodice just didn't seem like that big a deal right that moment. I had other things to worry about. Unfortunately.

"Where are your two handsome housemates?"

"Jogging. I was supposed to go with them, but I told them you'd called and needed me to hold your hand about moving in with Louie."

"I did," she said, and sipped her coffee. "But suddenly me being nervous about sharing space with a man for the first time in my life, just doesn't seem like such a big deal."

"Until I know for sure, I don't want them to know." "Even if it's yes, Anita, you don't have to tell them. I'll close up my agency for a few days. We'll go away on a girl's retreat, and you can come back without a problem."

"Are you honestly saying, that I don't tell any of them. That I just go away for a while and make sure that there's no baby to worry about?"

"It's your body," she said.

"Yeah, and I took my chances by having sex with this many men on a regular basis."

"You're on the pill," she said.

"Yeah, and if I'd wanted to be a hundred percent safe I'd have still used condoms, but I didn't. If I'm . . . pregnant, then I'll deal, but not like that."

"You can't mean you'd keep it."

She shook her head. "No man ever wants you to get an abortion if you're in a relationship. They always want you barefoot and pregnant."

She looked away, wouldn't meet my eyes. "I can tell what I'd do, and it wouldn't involve telling Louie."

I sighed, and stared out the little window above the sink. A lot of things to say went through my head, none of them helpful. I finally settled for, "Well, it isn't you and Louie having this particular problem. It's me, and . . ."

"Thanks for putting it that way."

"I could ask, who's the father, but that's just creepy. If you are, then it's this little tiny, microscopic lump of cells. It's not a baby. It's not a person, not yet."

I shook my head. "We'll agree to disagree on that one."

"You're pro-choice," she said.

"That's like saying you're pro-choice and pro-life. You can't be both."

"I'm pro-choice because I've never been a fourteen- year-old incest victim pregnant by their father, or a woman who's going to die if the pregnancy continues, or even a teenager who made a mistake. I want women to have choices, but I also believe that it's a life, especially once it's big enough to live outside the womb."

"Maybe, but being excommunicated, you'd think that cured me." The Pope had declared that all animators, zombie raisers, were excommunate until they repented their evil ways, and stopped doing it. What His Holiness didn't seem to grasp is that raising the dead was a psychic ability and if we didn't raise it for money on a regular basis, that we'd eventually raise the dead by accident. I had accidentally raised a pet as a child, and a suicidal teacher in college. I'd always wondered if there had been others that just never found me. Maybe some of the accidental zombies that occasional show up were psychic abilities gone wrong, or untrained. All I knew was that if the Pope had ever woken up as a child with his dead dog curled up in bed with him, he'd want the power controlled. Or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he'd believe that it was evil and he'd pray it into submission. My prayers just didn't have that kind of punch to them.

I sighed. "I don't know, but I do know that I could never just go away, get an abortion, and never tell my boyfriends. Never tell them that one of them might have made a child with me. I just couldn't do it."

She was shaking her head so hard that her hair fell around her face, covered the upper half of it. She ran her hands through it sharply, like she was pulling on it.

"Then don't, then go. If you can't deal, then go."

"I didn't mean that. I just meant that I can't understand why you would complicate your life this way."

"Complicate, yeah, I guess that's one way of putting it."

"Okay, then if you're going to tell them, tell Micah and Nathaniel and get a test and test yourself."

"Not until after the test. I don't want anyone to know until I know for sure."

"I can pick one up at work on Monday."

She stared at me. "Monday! It's Thursday. I'd go fucking crazy if I had to wait that long. You'll go crazy. You can't wait nearly four days."

"Anita, you wouldn't have told me if you weren't pretty sure you needed a pregnancy test."

"When Nathaniel and Micah get back, they'll jump in the shower and we'll go straight to Jean-Claude. We'll get dressed and we go to the party. There won't be time tonight."

"Friday, promise me that Friday you'll get one."

"I'll try, but . . ."

"Besides, when you start asking your lovers to use condoms, won't they figure something out."

"Yeah, I heard you say if you'd used condoms you'd be safe, don't tell me that you're not going to want to use them for a while. Could you really have unprotected sex right now, and enjoy it?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Then what are you going to tell the boys about this sudden need for condoms? Hell, Micah had a vasectomy before you even met him. He's like super safe."

"No, I'm not going to rain all over Jean-Claude's big event. He's planned this for months."

"You didn't mention it to me."

"And how will Mr. Fang-Face feel about being a father?"

"Don't call him that."

"Sorry, how will Jean-Claude feel about being a daddy?"

"It's probably not his."

She looked at me. "You're having sex with him, a lot, why isn't it his?"

"Because he's over four-hundred-years-old and when a vampire gets that old, they aren't very fertile. That goes for Asher, and Damian, too."

"Yeah," I said.

She covered her eyes with her hands. "I'm sorry, Anita. I'm sorry that it's weirding me out that my uptight monogamous friend is suddenly sleeping with not one, but three vampires."

"I didn't plan it that way."

"I know that." She hugged me, and I stayed stiff against her. She wasn't being comforting enough for me to relax in her arms. She hugged me tighter. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm being a jerk. But if it's not the vampires then who else, but your house boys."

"Fine, that leaves Micah and Nathaniel."

"Micah is fixed, so it can't be him?"

Her eyes went wide. "That leaves Nathaniel. Jesus, Anita, Nathaniel as the father to be."

A moment ago, I might have agreed with her, but now it pissed me off. It wasn't her place to disparage my boyfriends. "What's wrong with Nathaniel?" I said, and my voice was not entirely happy.

I letting the anger seep into my eyes. "Nathaniel told me you didn't see him as real, as a person. I told him he was wrong. I told him you were my friend, and you wouldn't disrespect him like that. I guess I was wrong."

"I didn't say he was the love of my life, and yeah, he started out as my pomme de sang, but that doesn't . . ."

But she interrupted me. "Your apple of blood, right, that's what pomme de sang means?"

"If you were a vampire you'd be taking blood from your little stripper, but thanks to that blood-sucking son of a bitch you have to feed off of sex. Sex for god's sake. First that bastard made you his blood whore, and now . . ." She stopped abruptly, a startled almost frightened look on her face, as if she knew she'd gone too far.

I gave her a flat, cold look. The look that says my anger has moved from hot to cold. It's never a good sign. "Go on, Ronnie, say it."

"I didn't mean it," she whispered.

She started to cry. I just stared at her, speechless. What the hell was going on? We were fighting, she wasn't allowed to cry in the middle of it. Especially not when she was the one being a cruel bastard. I could count on one hand the times I'd seen Ronnie cry, and still have fingers left over.

She spoke in that breathless, hiccupping voice that serious crying can give you. "I'm sorry, oh, god, Anita, I'm sorry. I'm just so jealous."

I raised eyebrows at her. "What are you talking about? Jealous of what?"

I wasn't sure that being able to number your lovers at over a hundred was a good thing, but it was something that Ronnie and I had agreed to disagree over a long time ago. I did not say, look who's the whore, or other hurtful remarks I could have made. I let all the cheap shots I could have made go. She was the one crying.

"You said sex with Louie was great. I think you've used words like fantastic, and mind-blowing."

She nodded, her hair spilling around her face so that I couldn't see her eyes for a moment. "It is, he is, but he's just one man. What if I get bored, or he gets bored with me? How can just one be enough?" She looked up at that last remark, her grey eyes wide and frightened.

"That's exactly what I mean." She wiped at the tears on her face in harsh angry motions, as if the touch of them made her even more upset. "How is it that you, my girlfriend who had only three men in her entire life, ends up dating and fucking five men?"

She frowned at me, her eyes taking on that look that meant she was counting in her head. "I only count five."

"You're leaving someone out, Ronnie."

"No," and she started counting on her fingers, "Jean-Claude, Asher, Damian, Nathaniel, and Micah. That's it."

She frowned harder, then she got it. "Oh, no, no," she said.

"You just had sex with him once, right?"

I shook my head, as if I was shaking my head, no, over and over again. "Not just once."

I started to blush and couldn't stop it. Damnit.

"You're blushing that's not a good sign," she said.

Her voice was gentler, when she said, "How many times, Anita? How many times in the month you've been back together?"

"Seven," I said, still not looking up. I hated admitting it, because the number alone said louder than any words, just how much I enjoyed being in Richard's bed.

"Seven times in a month," she said, "wow, that's . . . "

I looked up, and the look was enough.

I nodded, again.

"Richard," she whispered his name, and looked suitably horrified. It was worth a little horror.

Of all the men in my life the worst possible choice would have been Richard, because he of all of them would try for the white picket fence and a normal life. Normal wasn't possible for me, or him, but I knew that, and he didn't, not really, not yet. Even if I was pregnant, even if I kept being pregnant, I wasn't going to marry anyone. I wasn't going to change my living arrangements. My life worked the way it was, and Richard's idea of domestic bliss, was not mine.

She gave an abrupt laugh, then swallowed it. I was glaring at her. "Come on, Anita, I'm allowed to be impressed that you've managed to have sex with him seven times in the space of a month. I mean, you don't even live together, and you're having more sex than some of our married friends."

I kept giving her the look that makes bad guys run for cover, but Ronnie was my friend, and it's harder to impress you're friends with the scary-look. They know you won't really hurt them. The fight was dying under the weight of friendship, and my problem being more immediate than her years of issues unresolved.

Ronnie touched my arm. "Oh, it wouldn't be Richard's. You're having sex with Nathaniel at least every other day."

"Sometimes twice a day," I said.

She smiled. "Well, my, my . . ." then waved her hand as if to keep from distracting herself. "But the odds are, that it's Nathaniel's, right."

I smiled at her. "You sound happy about that now."

She shrugged. "Well, a choice of evils, ya know."

"Thanks a lot, Ronnie."

"You know what I meant," she said.

"No, I don't think I do." I think I was ready to be angry about her thinking the men in my life were a choice of evils, but I didn't get a chance to be angry, because two of the men in my life were coming through the front door.

I heard them unlocking the door, before it opened, and their voices came raised, and a little breathless from the run. They'd been able to run faster, and, or further, without me along. I was, after all, still human, and they were not.

Standing between the island and the cabinets we couldn't see the door, only hear them laughing as they came towards the doorway to the kitchen.

"How can you do that?" Ronnie asked, voice soft.

"What?" I asked, frowning.

"You were smiling."

I looked at her.

"You smiled just at the sound of their voices, even with everything . . ."

I stopped her with a hand on her arm. One way I knew I didn't want them to find out about the maybe baby was by overhearing a conversation. Their hearing was a little too keen to risk it. And here they came, my two live-in sweeties.

Micah was in front, looking back over his shoulder, still laughing, talking. He was my height, short, slender and muscular in that swimmer sort of way. He had to have his suits tailored because he needed an extra small athletic cut. You didn't get that off the rack. He'd come to me tanned and stayed that way from jogging outside, mostly shirtless, all summer and autumn. He'd added a t-shirt to the short-shorts today. His hair was that deep, rich brown that some people get after starting life as very blond. His dark hair was tied back in a low pony tail that couldn't hide how curly it was, almost as curly as mine. He'd taken off his sunglasses so when I moved into his arms I could look up into his chartreuse eyes. Yellow-green leopard eyes in his delicate face. A very bad man had forced him to stay in leopard form until when he came back to human he couldn't come all the way back.

We kissed and our arms just seemed to automatically glide around each other, to press our bodies as close together as we could with clothes on. He'd affected me this way almost from the moment we had seen each other. Lust at first sight. They say it doesn't last, but we were six months and counting.

I melted against his body and kissed him fiercely, deeply. Partly it was what I always wanted to do when I saw him. Partly I was scared and touching and being touched made me feel better. Not long ago I'd have been more discreet in front of company, but my nerves just weren't good enough to pretend today.

He didn't get embarrassed, or tell me not in front of Ronnie, the way Richard would have done. He kissed me back with the same drowning intensity. His hands holding me like he'd never let me go. We drew back, breathless and laughing.

"Was that for my benefit?" Ronnie asked, and her voice was not happy.

I turned around, still half in Micah's arms. I looked at her angry eyes and suddenly was ready to be angry back. "Not everything is about you, Ronnie."

"Are you telling me you kiss him like that every time he comes home?" The anger was back, and she used it. "He's been gone, what, an hour? I've seen you greet him after a day's work, and like that."

"Like what?" I asked, voice sliding down. If she wanted to fight, we could fight. "Like he was air and you couldn't breath him in fast enough."

Micah's voice was mild, placating, trying to talk us both down. "Did we interrupt something?"

I turned to face Ronnie, squarely. "I'm allowed to kiss my boyfriend the way I want to kiss him without getting your permission, Ronnie."

"Don't try and tell me you weren't rubbing my face in it, just now, with the show."

"Go get some therapy, Ronnie, because I am fucking tired of your issues raining all over me."

"I confided in you," she said, voice strangled with some emotion I didn't understand, "and you put on a show like that in front of me. How could you?"

"Oh, that wasn't a show," Nathaniel said from just inside the doorway, "but if it's a show you want, we can do that, too." He glided into the kitchen on the balls of his feet showing the grace of both his dance training and that otherworldly grace of the wereleopard. He pulled his tank top off in one smooth gesture and let it fall to the floor. I actually backed up a step, before I caught myself. I hadn't realized until that moment that he was angry with Ronnie. What little cutting remarks had she been making to him, that I hadn't heard? When he told me she didn't see him as real, he'd been trying to tell me more than I had heard. That I'd missed something big, was there in his angry eyes.

He tore the tie from his pony tail and let his ankle-length auburn hair fall around his nearly naked body. The jogging short-short just didn't cover that much.

I had time to say, "Nathaniel . . ." and he was in front of me. That otherworldly energy that all lycanthropes could give off shivered off his skin and along my body. He was 5' 6" just tall enough for me to have to look up to meet his eyes. His anger had turned them from lavender to the deeper color of lilacs, if flowers could burn with anger, and force of personality. Nathaniel was in those eyes and with that one look he dared me, challenged me, to turn him down.

I didn't want to turn him down. I wanted to wrap his body and that skin-crawling energy around me like a coat. Lately almost any stress seemed to feed into sex. Scared; sex would make me feel better. Angry; sex would calm me. Sad; sex made me happy. Was I addicted to sex? Maybe. But Nathaniel wasn't offering actual sex. He just wanted as much attention as I'd given Micah. Seemed fair to me.

I closed the distance between us with my hands, my mouth, my body. The energy of his beast spilled around us like being plunged in a warm bath that had a mild electric charge. He'd been one of the least of my leopards until a metaphysical accident had taken him from pomme de sang, food, to my animal to call. I was the first human servant to gain the vampire ability to call an animal. All leopards were mine to call, but Nathaniel was my special pet. We'd both gained from the magical bonding, but he'd gained more.

He lifted me up, using just his hands on my thighs. Even through my jeans he made sure I knew he was happy to be pressed against my body. So happy that it forced a small sound from me.

Ronnie's voice came harsh, ugly, like she was choking on her anger. "And when the baby comes, are you going to fuck in front of it, too?"

Nathaniel froze against me. Micah's voice came from behind us, "Baby?"

That one word fell into the room like a thunderbolt, except that afterwards the room was quiet. So quiet, that I could hear the blood pounding in my head. Nathaniel's body so still against mine, that if I hadn't felt his pulse against my hand, it would have been like he wasn't there. I was afraid to move, afraid to breath. It was like a moment before a gun fight, when you know it's going to happen, and that anything, any movement, will start it off, and you don't want to be the one that makes it happen.

Nathaniel looked down at me, and the look was enough. It broke the unnatural silence, and sound spilled around us. Micah said, "Did Ronnie say, baby?"

"Yeah, I said, baby." Her voice was ugly with anger. Nathaniel let me slide to the floor, his hands going to my shoulders. His eyes were so serious that I had to fight to keep meeting them. I did it, though my eyes flinched as if the force of his questions was a light too bright to meet.

"Are you pregnant?" he asked, voice soft.

"I'm not sure," I said, and I gave Ronnie the glare she deserved. "I was going to wait until I was sure before I told any of you guys. But I had to tell someone. I thought, hey, I'll my best friend, but I guess I was wrong."

"The kiss with Micah may not have been for my benefit," Ronnie said in that ugly voice that I didn't recognize as hers, "but your pet stripper and you, that was for my benefit."

I turned so that I was facing her, Nathaniel at my back. "You're jealous of the men in my life, yeah, I get that now."

She opened her mouth, closed it, and said, "I guess that's fair. I tell your secret, you tell mine."

I shook my head. "Me telling Nathaniel and Micah that you are jealous of how many men are in my bed, isn't the same as telling them that I may be pregnant." I had a mean idea, so I said it, "But it might be close if I told Louie that you were jealous of my boyfriends. Does he know that you can number your old lovers in triple digits?" Yeah, it was mean, but she'd earned it. Only family can fight as dirty as best friends.

She paled a little, and that was enough to answer the question. "He doesn't know," I said, and made it a statement.

"I think he deserves to know," Nathaniel said, and again there was that tone in his anger that said it was more personal than it should have been between them. "I'd planned on telling him," she said.

"When?" he asked, and he moved around me, so that he was facing her.

I glanced at Micah, and he shook his head, as if he didn't know what was going on either. Good to know we were both confused.

"When you'd moved in together, married him, or never?"

"We're not getting married," she said in a voice that was just a little desperate, as if her fear was washing her anger away. She rallied then, "You did that little show with Anita to rub my face in the fact that I'm about to become monogamous. You're always doing shit like that."

"And how many times have you said, 'Oh, it's Anita little stripper, or pet stripper, or how's tricks, or my personal favorite, you're damned cute for a walking, talking, beef steak, or it that beef cake?"

"Jesus, Nathaniel." I looked at Ronnie. "Did you say all that to him?"

The anger faded around the edges as she finally looked uncomfortable. "Maybe, but not like he makes it sound."

"Then why didn't you say it in front of me?" I asked. "If there was nothing wrong with saying it, why not in front of me."

"Or me," Micah said, "I would have told you if she'd been saying things like that to Nathaniel."

"Why didn't you tell me, Nathaniel?" I asked.

He gave me his angry eyes. "I told you she didn't see me as real, as a person."

"But, you didn't tell me what she'd said, I needed to know."

He shrugged. "She's your best friend, and you'd just made up after a big fight. I didn't want to start another one."

"I was just kidding around," Ronnie said, but the tone in her voice didn't believe her either.

I looked at her. "How would you feel if I said stuff like that to Louie?"

"You can't call him a stripper, or an ex-prostitute, because he's not." The moment she said it, her face showed me she knew she shouldn't have. "I didn't mean . . ." she began, but it wasn't me that put her in her place, it was Nathaniel.

"I know why you call me names," he said, and he moved in closer, not touching, but invading the hell out of her personal space. "I see the way you watch me. You want me, but like Anita does. You just want me for a night, or a weekend, or a month, then you'd be done like you're always done with everybody. I know why you don't want to commit to Louie." I'd never seen him like this, relentless. I actually made a small move, as if I'd stop him, but Micah caught my eye, and shook his head. His face was serious, almost grim. I guess he was right. Nathaniel had earned this, and Ronnie had, too. But it wasn't going to end anywhere I wanted to be.

He said again, "I know why you don't want to commit to Louie."

She said in a small, weak voice, "Why?"

"Because it torments you to know that you will never know how I am in bed."

"Oh," she said in a voice that was almost her own, "so I'm not wanting Louie because you're such a stud?"

"Not me, Ronnie, but the next me. The next guy you get obsessed about. Not love obsessed, but I-wonder- what-he'd-be-like-in-bed obsessed. And you've always been beautiful enough, hot enough, to get anyone you've ever wanted, right?"

She stared at him as if he were something horrible. He prompted her, "Right?"

She nodded, and whispered, "Yes."

"You knew Anita wasn't fucking me, so you thought if she didn't want me maybe it would be okay, but I didn't pick up on any of it. I ignored the hints, so you started to get mean about it. Maybe you didn't even know why you were doing it." He leaned in so close that she moved back until her butt hit the cabinet, and she had nowhere else to go. "You kept belittling me in front of Anita, and worse behind her back, as if you'd convince her she didn't want to keep me. That I wasn't good enough to keep. Real enough to keep. Have you ever set your sights on anyone and not fucked them, at least once?"

She gave a little trembling shake of her head. She was biting her lower lip, and tears gleamed unshed in her eyes.

"Then suddenly, Anita is going to keep me, and you don't poach your friend's guys. That is a rule. You thought I was just food, and you could have me, at least once. Suddenly I'm a boyfriend, and it's against your rules to try for me, but you still wanted me. Just once. Just once to feel me inside you . . ."

I called it then, "Enough, Nathaniel, enough." My voice was shaky. This had gotten so ugly, so fast. How had I missed it?

Nathaniel moved back from her slowly, and said, "I used to believe in women like you, Ronnie. I used to think that anyone who wanted me that badly, must love me, at least a little." He shook his head. "But people like you don't love anyone, not even themselves."

"Nathaniel," Micah said, as if he'd been shocked by that one, too.

Nathaniel ignored him. "You need to find out what you're running from, Ronnie, before it ruins the best thing you've ever found."

She spoke in a harsh whisper, "You mean, Louie."

He nodded. "Yeah, I mean Louie. He loves you. He really, truly loves you, not just for a night, or a month, but for years. Part of you wants that or you wouldn't still be with him."

She swallowed hard enough that it sounded like it hurt. "I'm scared."

He nodded, again. "What if you love him? What if you give him your whole heart and then he dumps you the way you dumped so many others?"

She gave that trembling nod of hers again. "Yes."

"You need help, Ronnie, professional help. I can recommend someone."

I knew Nathaniel saw a therapist, but I'd never heard him talk about it with anyone before, not like this.

"I've been with her for a few years. She's good. She's helped me a lot." His face was gentler than it had been.

Ronnie looked at him like he was the snake and she was the helpless little bird.

He went to the corkboard above the phone. There were business cards pinned to it; important numbers, notes. He took one of the cards down. He walked back over to Ronnie and held it out to her. "If she can't take you, she'll know someone good who can."

Ronnie took the card carefully, just by the corner as if she was afraid it would bite. She gave him wide, frightened eyes, but she put the card in her jeans pocket. She let out a deep breath, and turned to me. "I'm sorry, Anita. I'm sorry about everything." She looked at Nathaniel, then back at me. "And now I'm going to leave the mess behind and let you guys clean it up like I've always done. I am sorry." And she walked out. We all waited until we heard the door close behind her.

The three of us stood for a few seconds in silence, waiting for the shock waves to settle. But of course there were other problems than just Ronnie's issues.

Micah turned to me, and said, "Are we in a mess?" "I'm not sure yet," I said.

"But you think you're pregnant?" he said.

I nodded. "I missed last month. I'd planned on finding out for sure before I told anyone." I sighed and crossed my arms under my breasts. "I haven't bought a pregnancy test, because I wasn't sure how to take it without one of you finding out."

Nathaniel came to stand beside me, but to one side so he wouldn't block my view of Micah. "Anita, you shouldn't have to go through this alone. At least one of us should be holding your hand while you wait for the little strip to turn colors."

I looked up at him. "You sound like you've done this before?"

"Once, she wasn't sure it was mine, but I was the only friend she had to hold her hand."

"I thought I was your first girlfriend."

"She found out I'd never been with a girl, so she took care of it." His voice made it seem utterly matter of fact. "I wasn't very good at it, but she came up pregnant. It was probably one of her customers, but it could have been mine."

"Customers?" Micah made it a question.

"She was in the game, too, like I was then."

I knew 'the game' meant she'd been a prostitute, but 'the game' usually meant when he was on the street. He'd been off the street by sixteen. "How old were you?" I asked.

"Thirteen," he said.

The look on my face made him laugh. "Anita, I'd never been with a girl, but I'd seen a lot of men. She thought I should know what's like to be with a girl. She was my friend, protected me sometimes, when she could."

"How old was she?" Micah asked.

"Fifteen."

"Jesus," I said.

He smiled, that gentle, almost condescending smile that always let me know what a sheltered life I'd led.

"And she got pregnant," Micah said, softly.

Nathaniel nodded. "The odds were that it wasn't mine. We had sex twice. Once so I could see if I liked it. The second time so I could get better at it." His face softened in a way I'd never seen before.

"You loved her," I said, voice as gentle as I could make it.

He nodded. "My first crush."

"What was her name?" Micah asked.

"Jeanie, her name was Jeanie."

I almost didn't ask, but it was the most he'd ever talked about that part of his life, so I asked. "What happened?"

"I held her hand while the test turned positive. Her pimp paid for an abortion. I went with her. Me, and another girl." He shrugged, and the soft light faded in his eyes. "She couldn't have kept it. I knew that. We all knew it." He looked suddenly sad, lost.

I wanted to take that lost look out of his eyes, so I hugged him, and he let me, and he hugged me back.

"What happened to Jeanie?" Micah asked.

He stiffened in my arms, and I knew then, it would not be a good answer. "She died. She got into the wrong car one night, and the John killed her."

I hugged him tighter. "I am so sorry, Nathaniel."

He hugged me one fierce, tight hug, then he moved back enough to see my face. "I was thirteen and she was fifteen. We were street hookers. We were both drug addicts. There wasn't going to be a baby." His eyes were so serious. "I'm twenty, and you're twenty-seven. We both have good jobs, money, a house. I've been clean for three, almost four years."

I pulled back from him. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying we have choices, Anita. Choices that I didn't have the last time."

My pulse was in my throat, threatening to choke me. "Even if I am . . ." and it took me two tries to say, "pregnant, I'm not sure I'm keeping it. You understand that, right?" My chest was so tight I could barely breath.

"It's your body," he said, "I respect that. I'm just saying that we have more than one way to go here, that's all. It has to be mostly your choice."

"Yes," Micah said, "you're the woman, and like it, or not, the final choice has to be yours."

"Your body, your choice," Nathaniel said, "but we need a pregnancy test. We need to know."

"We're running late now," I said, "you guys need to show and we have to go to Jean-Claude's place."

"Can you really just go to the party with this hanging over us?" Nathaniel asked.

"I have to."

He shook his head. "It's fashionable to be late, and once he knows why, Jean-Claude won't mind us being late."

"But . . ." I said.

"He's right," Micah said, "or am I the only one that thinks I would go crazy smiling and nodding tonight, and not knowing."

I hugged myself tighter. "But what if it's positive, what if . . ." I couldn't even finish it.

"Then we'll deal with it," Micah said.

"Whatever happens, Anita, it will be okay. I promise," Nathaniel said.

It was my turn to look into his face and realize how young he was. We were only seven years apart in age, but they could be an important seven years. He promised, it would be alright, but some promises you can't keep no matter how hard you try.

That tight feeling climbed up my throat and spilled out my eyes. I started to cry, and couldn't stop it. Nathaniel wrapped his arms around me, held me against his body, and a moment later Micah moved in behind me. They both held me, while I cried my fear and confusion and anger at myself. Self-loathing didn't even begin to cover it.

When the crying slowed, and I could breath without hiccupping, Nathaniel said, "I'll go out and get the test. Micah can shower while I'm gone. I should be back in time to clean up and we'll only be a little late."

I pushed myself away, enough to see his face. "But what if it's a yes, I mean how can I go to the party if it's a yes?"

Micah leaned over my shoulder, putting his face next to mine. "You don't want to know," he said, "because you'll find it easier to pretend tonight, if you don't know."

I nodded, my cheek sliding against his.

"I'll get the test," Nathaniel said, "and we'll use it later tonight, after the party. But we are getting one, or two, to take with us." For someone who was supposed to be a submissive his voice held no compromise. It was simple fact.

"What if someone finds it in our stuff?" I asked.

"Anita, you're going to have to tell Jean-Claude and Asher sometime," Nathaniel said.

"Only if its positive," I said.

He gave me a look, but nodded. "Okay, only if it's positive."

Positive. It seemed like such the wrong word. If I was pregnant it was definitely a negative. A really, big, scary negative.

I had a key to the new back door of the Circus of the Damned. No more waiting around for someone to let us inside. Yea.

I'd actually turned the key, and felt the lock click over, when the door started opening inward. Security was pretty good at the Circus of late, since we'd made a deal with the local wererats. But it wasn't a wererat that opened the door; it was a werewolf.

Graham was tall enough and muscular enough to make it impossible to move through the door without brushing him. He stood for a moment looking down at me, at us, I guess, though it felt more personal than that. His perfectly straight black hair managed to fall decoratively over his brown eyes, and still be very, very short on the bottom, so the strong line of his neck was left bare and strangely tempting. His eyes tilted up at the edges, and I now knew that he had his Japanese mother's eyes and hair, but the rest of him seemed to have been copied from his ex-navy, and very Nordic looking father.

Graham had been the only one of the lycanthropes I'd ever known, to have their parents visit his place of work. Since his usual job was security at Guilty Pleasures, a vampire and furry strip club, that had been an interesting night.

I thought for a moment Graham would stay in the door way and make me push past him. I think for a moment, so did he, but he finally moved back enough to give us some room. He was already dressed in what all the security would be wearing tonight; black slacks, black t-shirt, though the shirt should probably have been a size larger. The one he was wearing looked like it was having trouble holding on, as if one flex too many and it would shred.

I was actually in the storeroom with it's boxes, and it's harsh industrial lighting before I realized none of us had said, hi. It seemed a little late for that, but I was a girl. We can usually think of something to say.

"Been lifting heavier weights than normal?" I asked. "Yes." And he gave me that smile that lately he'd been wasting on me, when he wasn't scowling at me. "I didn't think you'd noticed."

I didn't like the smile. It seemed to demand things from me that I wasn't willing to give to Graham. Didn't I have enough men in my life and my bed without adding anyone else? I thought so, but Graham didn't.

He'd actually bunked over at my house a couple of times, and slept with us here at Jean-Claude's place. I do mean slept. It was not a euphemism for more. But he'd made it very clear that he was hoping for more.

"Is everyone else ready to go, but us?" Micah asked. Graham turned to him, and gave a little bow mostly from the neck. I think it was a partial apology for ignoring him. Micah was one of the animal kings in this town, which meant you did not disrespect him, unless you meant to disrespect him. "Yes, Nimir-raj." Graham grinned.

"Though, some of the vampires haven't been ready very long. You're not as late as you think you are." The look on his face said that we'd missed some amusing, though probably frantic preparations. Just as well, I was frantic enough without anyone else's problems.

He gave a belated hello to Nathaniel, though I wasn't sure he minded. Nathaniel wasn't entirely certain how he felt about the tall werewolf. Yet another reason that Graham wasn't on my short list.

It occurred to me as we followed him to the inner door with it's heavier lock, that if I had given into Graham's hints I'd have him on the list of would-be fathers for my would-be baby.

I was suddenly cold, and my stomach did that tight squeezing thing it does when you've had a truly awful thought. There was nothing wrong with Graham, other than the fact that I barely knew him, and I suspected he wanted to be my lover for a while, but not forever. I wasn't much into men that weren't long term planners. I was very, very glad that I'd stood firm with Graham, as he led the way down the stone steps that led into the underground. Let's hear it for morals, or at least some semblance of standards.

Nathaniel took my elbow, and it made me jump. "You okay?" he asked softly.

I shook my head. I was glad I was still in jogging shoes on the oddly spaced stone steps. There were a lot of steps, and they all seemed spaced for something that didn't walk upright, or at least didn't walk like a human being.

I leaned into him for a moment, let him hug me one armed. We had the pregnancy test tucked into the over night bag, he was carrying. It held not only his stuff, but mine. Due to needing dress shoes for all of us, and some other dressy bits from home, Micah was also carrying a small suitcase. Normally, we came with no luggage. There were extra toothbrushes and underwear to be had. There were even extra clothes to be borrowed. Jean- Claude had tried to get me to leave outfits over here, but I found it confusing to have entire outfits travel back and forth. I kept leaving the only blouse that matched something at the place I wasn't staying. I was either going to have to buy pieces that mixed and matched better, or stop sleeping away from home quite so often. Since the sleeping over part wasn't likely to change, it meant I'd have to go shopping soon. Jean-Claude had offered to have a wardrobe designed and made for me, that would solve the problem, but I was a little afraid of what he might "design". He and I didn't always agree on clothing.

Nathaniel finished hugging me, but kept my hand in his, as we went down the steps. Once upon a time I'd minded having a man hang onto me, but not tonight. Tonight I held his hand tight, as if the touch of it were a lifeline. How was I going to get through the night without breaking down? Normally I'd have bet on me to hold myself together no matter what was happening, but not tonight, not about . . . We had a pregnancy test with us. I realized when Nathaniel came out with it, why I had never quite gotten around to getting one earlier in the day. Buying the test made it more real, more possible. Damnit, but it did.

Graham waited for us at the landing where the stairs made a blind turn. His face fought not to frown at me as I walked hand in hand with Nathaniel. It wasn't the sharing me with another man part, he was already doing that with Meng Die and at least two other men. No, his problem was about the fact that Nathaniel wasn't very dominant. The werewolves, and most of the wereanimals, operated on the strongest, the meanest, the toughest get the best. You did not win points in the local werewolf pack by being kind, or patient, or a good cook. Graham just couldn't wrap his head around why I preferred someone like Nathaniel to someone like him. Him being stronger, tougher, meaner, taller. Graham had a pretty high opinion of himself and just couldn't understand why I preferred my men prettier rather than tougher. I'd tried to explain it to him, but finally given up. I'd told him that I loved Nathaniel, and he, Graham, didn't need to understand why. He just had to accept that it was true, and move on.

He'd accepted that I loved who I loved, but the look on his face as he watched us, showed clearly that he hadn't understood. I suspected, strongly, that Graham had never really been in love. Until you have been, at least once, you really can't understand it. You can lust after people you don't love, or, I'm told, love people you don't lust after, but love and lust have only one thing in common. They are both four letter words beginning with 'L'.

Micah moved past him, but Graham just kept standing, looking back at Nathaniel and me. The look on his face was way too serious for comfort. We ran out of steps and came even with him. He sighed. "I have a message from Jean-Claude." His tone alone said he knew I was going to like it.

"What kind of message?" I asked, and didn't try and keep the suspicion out of my voice.

Micah came back around the corner, a question in his eyes. I shrugged. I didn't have any answers.

Graham said, "There are two masters of the city downstairs in the livingroom." He said it flat and empty, as if that would make it better, or as if he didn't know what tone to give so he gave it nothing.

I frowned at him. "Why are there two masters of the city in the livingroom. I'm assuming you're not counting Jean-Claude as one of them."

He shook his head.

"Then why are there, Graham? Why aren't they at Danse Macabre, waiting for us, with the other masters?"

"Jean-Claude said," and here, Graham, closed his eyes, as if he were remembering, "These two masters are, or were at one time, my friends."

That made me raise an eyebrow. The older vamps didn't use the word 'friend' lightly.

Graham continued his message, eyes still closed, "They have also offered the greatest bounty to your search for a new pomme de sang. I thought there would be time to speak with them before the party." He opened his eyes. "I don't think he expected you to be this late."

"I thought you said, that until minutes ago most of the vamps weren't ready either."

He sighed again. "They weren't, but I think Jean- Claude planned on you and he and Asher getting dressed first and visiting with these guys."

"Why didn't you give me the message up top? Why wait until now?"

He looked at me, his eyes peeking through the silky fringe of his overly long bangs. It always made me think of an animal peering at me through the grass. The upper layer hadn't been this long when I met him.

"What, Graham, what?" I asked, because he just kept looking at me.

"I knew you wouldn't like seeing any of them early. I didn't want to be the one who gave you bad news. You're already mad at me. I didn't want to make it worse." "I am not mad at you, Graham."

"If you're not mad at me, then why don't you like me better?"

"I don't dislike you, Graham, I just don't want to fuck you. I'm allowed not to fuck you, just because you want to fuck me."

"Don't fuck me then, just feed the arduer off of me. Feed it the way you fed off of Nathaniel for months without intercourse."

I shook my head. "I don't want to introduce the passion of the arduer to someone I'm not keeping. It's cruel."

"The arduer is like the greatest orgasmic experience that any of the vampire lines can give to a mortal," Graham's face was full of such eagerness, his hands reaching out to the air as if he'd draw the arduer out of it, and hug it to him. "I just want to know what it feels like. The real deal, not the little tastes I've had by accident. Why is that wrong, Anita? Why is it wrong to want that?"

"She's afraid you'll become addicted," Micah said, voice soft.

Graham shook his head. "I've never been addicted to anything in my life."

"Lucky you," Nathaniel said.

"Please, Anita, don't go to strangers to feed the arduer. To feed the hunger that you inherited from Jean- Claude. Don't go to strangers when there are people right here that would do almost anything to feed your need."

I made an exasperated sound, that was almost a scream of frustration, and moved past him. I left him on the landing because I didn't know what else to say to him. I hadn't known what to say to him for days now.

Graham had been one of the local men that Jean- Claude had encouraged me to "interview" as my new pomme de sang. Jean-Claude thought that if I'd "interview" them a little more intimately, that I'd have a new pomme by now. He'd called me stubborn. Asher had called me foolish, to refuse to try such bounty. Maybe it was foolish. I hadn't told Ronnie that all the men in my life had given me a short list of other men to "try-out". She'd have freaked even worse than she already had, because if Louie had been that generous with her, she'd have been a happy camper. But Ronnie wasn't me, and what might make her happy, just seemed to confuse me.

I heard Graham hurrying behind us, but he didn't try for more talk. He moved past us to get the heavy metal door that led into the inner sanctum. He opened the door for us without another word, or even a glance. He had his bodyguard face on, the one that was all business, and made him one of the best of the wolves for security work. When he was concentrating on his job, he was actually pretty good at it. The trouble was that he kept getting distracted. A bodyguard that is more interested in having sex with you than guarding you is no bodyguard at all.

Clay was just inside the door. He was as tall as Graham, but his hair was blond and curly and careless. Where Graham took time and attention with his appearance, Clay just didn't seem to care. He wasn't sloppy, just comfortable. He was wearing the same black on black outfit, but he'd put black jogging shoes with his slacks instead of dress shoes. He looked good, but a little uncomfortable out of jeans. I sympathized, or would soon.

Clay had been on the vampire's list for pomme de sang. But after one night of sharing a bed, I'd let him go back to the bed he wanted to sleep in. He fucked and slept with Meng Die when she wasn't entertaining someone else. He had made it clear to her that he wanted to be her pomme de sang. He came to my bed because he was ordered to, not because he wanted to. I'd just told Jean-Claude that Clay didn't do it for me, and he'd gone back to Meng Die. Though she didn't treat Clay like a beloved mistress, more like someone she liked to fuck, but wasn't sure she wanted to keep. But it was where Clay wanted to be, and if that was what he wanted, then who was I to bitch. At least he hadn't gotten upset about being sent back to the minor leagues. Graham had, and Requiem had. Byron was upset, but not because he couldn't have me. He liked boys more than girls, and kicking him out of my bed meant he didn't get as close to Jean-Claude and Asher and Nathaniel and Micah, and . . . well, you get the idea.

Since I hadn't found a new pomme among the locals Jean-Claude and Elinore, one of our new British vamps, had come up with an idea. A wonderfully, awful idea. Since masters of the city were coming from all over the United States for the party and the ballet, why didn't we have a sort of contest. The masters could bring some candidates for my new pomme de sang.

I'd said, no, at first, but they'd convinced me that I could just turn them all down. But it was a way to get them to behave better while they were visiting us. I mean, if you're looking at what amounts to your new in- laws, you mind your manners. I couldn't argue with the reasoning, but it meant that I felt like a piece of prize beef, or would be cheesecake?

I'd told them all, "I'm just not the Cinderella type."

Nathaniel's reply had been, "But you're not Cinderella, Anita, you're the prince. You're Prince Charming."

Well, I guess if you have to choose between being the princess who is trying to catch the prince's eye, or the prince who doesn't want to be caught, prince was better. Or at least that's what I told myself as Clay led us through the drapes that formed the walls of the livingroom.

The first of the "princesses" were in the that room, waiting to meet their "prince". Eeek

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