"Hey, Riley, you're supposed to be waiting out in front of the building."

Rhoan's cheerful voice rose out of the stillness, making me start. I glanced at the clock, and realized that almost an hour had passed since Quinn had left.

"Sorry," I called, rinsing the mug under the tap as I tried to gather my composure.

Why I bothered I have no idea. He wasn't fooled any more than I would have been.

"What's wrong?" He stopped in the kitchen doorway, his cheerful expression fading quickly to one of concern. "Are you okay?"

"Just dandy, bro."

He frowned, then pulled me into his arms. For several minutes he didn't say anything, just held me. Comforted me.

"Quinn raided my thoughts during sex," I said eventually, my words muffled by his chest. "He knows we're going after Starr."

Tension slipped through his muscles, quick and sharp. "Bastard."

"Exactly what I said. Several times."

"I hope you made him pay."

I sniffed. "Yeah, I did." But who was going to be the real loser - him or me?

"Good." He released me and stepped back. "Have you warned Jack?"

I shook my head. "There's no need. Quinn's going to the Directorate. He never got deep enough to discover we were going to Genoveve."

"But once he discovers Jack's not at the Directorate, Genoveve is the first place he'll check." He glanced at his watch. "I'll ring Jack. You ready to go?"

I nodded. There was nothing to pack, nothing to take, because from here on in, I was going to become someone else.

"Then let's get out of here, just in case he decides to come back for a little more raiding."

I nodded, then suddenly remembered Liander. "I just have to get one thing."

I dashed into my bedroom to get Liander's birthday present, then we left. Once we'd gotten into Liander's van and had merged into the flow of Saturday morning traffic, Rhoan called Jack. I leaned over the front passenger seat and plonked the present onto it.

"Hey, happy birthday, old man."

"Forty-nine is hardly old for a werewolf. And kindly remember that you're going out with someone more than twelve hundred years old."

"Yeah well, that situation might have changed." Though I'd forced a cheerful note into my voice, Liander didn't appear any more fooled than my brother had been.

He gave me a concerned glance. "Are you okay?"

"Floating on happiness," I said dryly. Then waved at the present. "You can open it when we get to Genoveve."

"Or you could tell me now and save me the suspense."

"I don't think so."

He studied it for a second, then said, "It almost looks like a book."

It was - on the history of cinema effects. But I'd added a box of chocolates to fudge the shape a little. "You'll just have to wait and see."

"Bitch."

I grinned.

"Do a U-turn," Rhoan said, his hand momentarily over his cell phone. "Head for Chapel Street."

"Chapel Street?" I said, surprised. "What the hell is there, beside upmarket shops and trendy snobs?"

He waved a hand for me to shut up, so I returned my attention to Liander. In the sharp morning light, he was an almost icy silver. The only thing that lent him some warmth was the blue of his clothes and the matching streaks in his hair.

"Going for the winter look this week, are we?"

He gave me a smile that had all sorts of warning signals flashing. "Winter is very 'in' at the moment. But just wait until you see what I have planned for you."

"I think I should be afraid."

"Very. You are going to be extremely foxy."

My eyebrows rose. "Meaning I'm not now?"

"Darling, you're pretty but very underdone. A little time, care, and makeup certainly wouldn't go astray."

"That's a very backhanded compliment."

He grinned. "Sometimes the truth hurts."

"So can a smack in the head."

His grin widened and he shook his head. "You are so like your brother sometimes, it's scary."

I raised my eyebrows. "Rhoan's threatened to smack you?"

"Oh, many times." He gave me a glance that was pure mischief. "Trouble is, I enjoy it."

"I think that falls into the category of a little too much information at this hour of the morning."

"Gentle pain can be quite a turn-on if it's done right."

"Give me normal sex anytime." I pointed to the road ahead. "And if you don't concentrate, you're going to ram the back of that Ford."

He slammed on the brakes, throwing me backward. "If you'd stop yakking about sex, I could concentrate."

I shut up. After a few more urns and yeses, Rhoan hung up and glanced at me. "We're going to Chapel Street because Jack lives above a restaurant - he owns the building, and leases out the restaurant section."

I frowned. "Is it safe going there?"

"Apparently only Director Hunter knows the address. A different address is used on files."

And Quinn would never get the address off Director Hunter. Not only was she older in vampire years - and therefore more powerful - but because he was honor bound to obey her. Or so Quinn had said when he'd briefly mentioned the vampire hierarchy system a few months ago.

"We're not going to get parking anywhere near that street at this hour," Liander commented.

"There's a multilevel parking lot behind the Jam Factory, which is just down the road from Jack's."

"Meaning we get to go shopping while we wait for Jack?" I glanced at my brother as I said it, but couldn't resist adding the barb. "Oh, that's right, you already have. That's why we have no money left."

"You got pretty sweaters, so don't bitch."

"I need to eat more than I need new sweaters."

"We have tin food."

"Spaghetti and baked beans just don't cut it after a few days."

He gave me an annoyed look. "You're beginning to take all the fun out of shopping."

Which was precisely the point of nagging. I grinned and looked away. We battled our way through the rush hour traffic, getting there just after nine-thirty. Liander threw several large bags our way, then grabbed the remaining four himself. Jack was waiting in the shadows a few doors down from the Jam Factory complex, out of direct sunlight and well covered up. Age gave vampires a certain amount of immunity to the sun, so the older they were, the more they could walk in daylight. Quinn only had to avoid the hours between twelve and two. Jack, four hundred years younger, had tighter restrictions. He was probably pushing his limits right now.

We followed him to a small door to the right of an Italian restaurant, and up a set of stairs. His apartment was one long room - barring a doorway that led to what I presumed would be the bathroom and laundry - and surprisingly airy, with the front and back walls all windows. Though right now, awnings covered the back windows to stop direct sunlight. The color scheme and furnishings were very masculine, all blue colors, dark woods, and rich leather, and the walls were covered in what looked like prints from the old masters. Only they weren't prints, but real paintings. Given how old Jack was, that was more likely than it seemed.

"So," Jack said, as we dumped the bags on the floor near the table. "How did Quinn discover the mission timetable had been moved up?"

"Through me." I pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. "Apparently the fact we've shared blood has given him greater access to my mind - shields or no shields."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "If that were the case, he'd be here, nut heading to Genoveve."

"You've got him under observation?" Rhoan asked.

Jack nodded. "We seconded several hawk-shifters from Overseas Operations recently to tail Gautier. One of them is currently on Quinn. He'd sense another vampire, even if we had a guardian who could go out in morning sunshine."

Which was why Jack was so determined to set up a daytime division, with me, Rhoan, Kade, and Liander all as its chief operatives. Right now, the Directorate was very limited in its operational times, and not all the bad guys did the nasty stuff during the night.

"Quinn can only read my thoughts during times of stress or pleasure," I explained. "So right now, now matter how much he tries, he hasn't a hope of getting past my shield."

Which wasn't exactly the entire truth - he could actually touch my mind during sleep, as well. But I was pretty sure that was a connection that took both of us to form and went no deeper than a dream state.

And I have to say, the man gave amazing dream sex.

"We'd better hope he can't," Jack muttered. "Because I do not want him near this operation."

I raised my eyebrows. "Why?"

"Because he is only interested in revenge. We want to bring down the cartel's entire operation." He sat down on the chair nearest the com-unit, and interlaced his fingers. "We had our first breakthrough about six weeks ago. You remember the letter Misha left you on his death?"

It was hard to forget, given the circumstances under which he'd died. A tremor ran through me. God, I still had nightmares about those watery spiders, and Misha being eaten alive from the inside. I licked my lips, and said, "He gave us the name of the fifth clone - Claudia Jones. But he didn't know the alias she worked under at the Directorate."

"We've since discovered she doesn't actually work for us - though she does visit several times a month."

The glint in his green eyes suggested amusement, but for the life of me, I couldn't see why. I mean, there were thousands of people who visited the Directorate every month, all of them for legitimate reasons.

"She's not one of Alan Brown's whores, is she?" Rhoan said, a note of incredulity in his voice.

"Yes."

I glanced at my brother. "How the hell did you jump to that conclusion?"

He just grinned and tapped the side of his head. "Brains, dear girl. Brains."

I snorted softly. "I wasn't aware that's where you kept your brains."

"Enough." Jack touched a button on the keyboard, and the com-screen sprang to life. On it was a picture white haired, white skinned woman. She was extremely pretty and yet oddly ethereal, and there was an unearthly sense of power in her luminous blue eyes. "This is Claudia Jones."

"She looks like I did - well, except tor the eyes." I looked across at Liander. "When you made me up for the raid into Brown's office."

He nodded. "She seemed to be one of his regulars, so we thought it would be less suspicious if you looked like her."

"Of course, we weren't to know that she was Gautier's contact." Jack pressed another button, and the woman's picture gave way to porno - Brown fucking Jones in his office. As far as lovers went, the man had no finesse whatsoever - just got it out, shoved it in, and pumped away. Which was probably why he had to rely on prostitutes to relieve his sexual needs.

Jack froze the picture at the point of Brown getting his rocks off, and pointed to the screen. The image shimmered slightly as he touched it, then settled. "If you look at this hand, you'll notice her fingers have slipped under the desk. If I enhance the picture - " He did so, until the woman's hand dominated the screen. "You'll notice the silvery dot on the top of her index finger."

"And that is?"

"A microdot," Rhoan said. "Latest in storage media, and incredibly resilient."

Jack nodded. "The desk has a small hole drilled into it. The disk was placed into a container fitted into the hole."

"So Gautier just strolled in afterward and collected the container?" I asked, even as Jack dropped the close-up and sped up the film.

Brown did the dirty with the woman several more times, then both of them left. Nothing happened for a while, then Gautier wandered in, checking the office and walking past the desk in the process. He collected the container from the desk in a smooth, slick movement that would have been easy to miss, then left.

"So when Gautier sprung me and Quinn in Brown's office, he was actually going to collect a drop-off?"

"We think so."

"What made you suspect this was happening?" Liander asked. He was sitting on the arm of the sofa, behind Rhoan's chair.

"The fact that we could find no moles in the Directorate other than Gautier." He hesitated. "The only A.D. hiding secrets was Alan Brown, so we took the risk of reading him. You know he's being blackmailed?"

I nodded. Rhoan had told me that much ages ago.

"Gautier's behind it. Every Directorate decision is being relayed through Gautier to Deshon Starr. That madman knows what we're going to do before we even implement it."

"Which is why his cartel has managed to stay two steps ahead of the Directorate for so long."

Jack nodded again. "Of course, we then had to find out how Gautier was passing the information, which meant watching his every move, not only within the Directorate, but on missions as well. Four nights after the incident we just watched, Gautier strolled into Brown's office, this time before Brown arrived with Jones, and even though he wasn't actually on watch that night. That's when we finally realized what was going on."

"And she retrieved the disk?"

"Yes. And undoubtedly passed on a detailed report of all the going-ons in the Directorate for the coming week."

"So how is Brown getting the information to Gautier? He couldn't risk being seen with him at the Directorate."

"No. But Brown likes the greyhounds, and is severely in debt to the bookies. Gautier meets him there every Wednesday night."

"Wednesday being the day the board generally meets," I muttered. They were organized, no doubt about that. But then, this mob had been operating for well over fifty years - though Starr's takeover had only been relatively recent.

"Have you pulled in the prostitute?" Rhoan asked, leaning back in his chair. "Questioned her?"

"No, though we did follow her. Brown drops her off in Fitzroy Street, St. Kilda. Five minutes after he's left, a limousine picks the woman up and drives her to a large house in Toorak."

"To another client?" Liander asked.

"No. She lives there."

I raised my eyebrows. "She's one hell of a prostitute if she can afford to live in Toorak."

Jack smiled. "She's not a prostitute at all." He pressed another button, and the woman's picture reappeared. "She actually goes by the name of Dia Jones, and she does psychic readings for the rich and famous."

Surprise rippled through me. I mightn't read newspapers or watch the news much, but even I'd heard of Dia Jones. The woman's predictions were supposed to be deadly accurate and, last I'd heard, the waiting list to see her was over a year long. "Why in hell would a woman like that play prostitute for Deshon Starr?"

"If she is one of the clones, as Misha said, she may have no choice," Rhoan pointed out, then glanced at Jack. "And through her, Starr has a lot of access to the rich and famous, and possibly a lot of influence."

Jack nodded. "The house she lives in is owned by one of Starr's companies, and every weekend she goes to Starr's estate in Macedon. She's there the entire week before the full moon, and apparently there's also a lot of influential people in attendance at that time, too."

I remembered the estate I'd seen in one of the lab-made creature's mind right before I'd killed him. That house had been large and surrounded by acres and acres of lush gardens. Only what roamed its grounds were not things of nature, but creatures who evolution had little to do with - black ghosts who possessed little in the way of recognizable human features, blue things with rainbow wings and deadly claws. Demons and monsters and God knows what else. How did Deshon explain away his horrors?

"So," Liander asked. "This woman has wolf in her?"

"We don't know, but given all the cloning experiments at that time seemed to have involved werewolf genes, it wouldn't be beyond reason to think so."

"Then why Macedon? Isn't that a bit far out of the city to be running a crime syndicate?"

"In this day and age, no. Starr never actually leaves his estate, which is why we have never been able to pin any of his cartel's crimes on him."

"That and the fact the minds of his people are burned away before we can fully question them," Rhoan muttered.

"Sounds a nice type," Liander commented dryly.

"Oh, he's a charmer." Rhoan gave me a dark glance. "Which is why I don't want Riley in on this."

"Hey, I'm not the one who's planning to fuck the man, so stop worrying about me and start worrying about you."

"I'm not the one walking into this situation sans experience - "

"Enough," Jack said. "I need you both on this mission, and that's the end of it."

He pressed another button on the keyboard, and several more pictures came up, these taken at night and on the streets. They featured the same woman, only this time her pallid looks had given way to brown hair and soft makeup. In each picture she was talking to a different woman, and most of them were prostitutes if the clothing - or lack thereof - was anything to go by.

"A week before each full moon," Jack continued, "Dia apparently hits the streets for three nights on a recruitment drive. Last month, she signed up thirty women, though not all of them were prostitutes. She gives them cards, tells them to show up at a legitimate job-placement business the next day, where, after a background and physical check has been done, they're offered extremely large sums of money to provide sexual services for Starr's men during the full moon phase. We gather some do stay beyond that two week period, but most are returned unharmed to the streets the day after the full moon."

"Unharmed physically or mentally?" I asked.

Jack gave me one of his pleased-with-a-student smiles. "Physically, they're fine. But someone has shuffled through their memories, taking away the finer details."

"Meaning even if they were abused or hurt in the period they were there, they wouldn't remember it," Rhoan stated. "What about Starr? How does he pick his lovers?"

"From his security force." Jack hesitated. "We have someone in his estate already, and he's managed to uncover details about the firm Starr uses. That's how you're going in."

Rhoan frowned. "Who have you got in there? Gautier would have passed on Directorate photos, so Starr would recognize anyone we tried to get in there."

"But he doesn't know Kade. Starr has a passion for horses - he apparently doesn't ride them himself, just loves watching them run around with naked women on them."

"I betting the women aren't just riding them," Rhoan muttered. "From what I've heard, Starr loves watching others get it off. And the more dangerous the situation, the more he enjoys it."

Some people kept dogs as pets. Starr kept horses and lab-made nightmares, and, from the sound of it, combined the two interests sexually. It said an awful lot about the man. Or rather, his weirdness.

"Are the other horses shifters? Or just Kade?"

"Just Kade."

Then poor Kade. Having naked women riding around on his back was going to be mighty frustrating for the poor fellow.

"Tonight," Jack continued, "Director Hunter will place Rhoan's new identity in the security company's system and alter the memories of the three men who run the place. Tomorrow night, Kade will kill one of the current security force. Rhoan will, of course, be the recommended replacement."

"What about me?"

Jack glanced my way. "Dia began her recruitment drive last night."

I raised my eyebrows. "But the full moon is three weeks away, not two."

"Yes. And two nights ago, Dia left a message for Gautier saying the timetable has been stepped up to February fifth."

Which was one month away. "Do we know what timetable they're talking about?"

But even as I said it, I knew, if only because of the premonition I'd had earlier. Gautier would try to kill Jack that day.

Which is exactly what Jack said. "And while we have no idea why the timetable has been stepped up," he added, "it means we have less than a month to stop Starr."

"Is that going to be enough time?" Christ, Rhoan might know what he was doing, but I was a novice, and it would take me longer to uncover information for that reason alone.

"It's going to have to be." Jack reached past the computer and gave me a folder. "Your new identity."

I opened the folder and looked inside. "Poppy Burns?" I looked up at Jack. "Do I look like a Poppy to you?"

"You will by the time I've finished with you," Liander said, voice dry.

I poked my tongue out at him, and kept on reading. Poppy apparently was the result of a horny werewolf and a human groupie encounter, with neither parent being intelligent enough to realize they were fertile at the time of their brief liaison. The mother didn't want the resulting child, didn't know where the father was, so poor Poppy was shoved onto various relatives until she ran away at fifteen. She'd had a multitude of jobs since then, but thanks to her temper and her attitude, hadn't been able to hold on to anything for very long. She supported herself in between with thieving, and the occasional spot of prostitution. She'd gotten into Melbourne three days ago, after having ripped off the wrong house in Sydney and having the owners place a large reward for information on her whereabouts.

Charming. I'd just become a wanted criminal. "Poor Poppy's had a bitch of a life, hasn't she?"

Jack grinned. "Read that until you know her off by heart." He hesitated. "And make sure you start reflecting her attitude."

I nodded. "I won't have a problem with that part of it."

"Which is why we put that in. Liander, you want to start in on her? Rhoan, here's your profile."

Liander grabbed my hand and led me into the bathroom. As he sat me down, I saw the scissors.

"How short are we going?" I said instantly.

"Very short."

"No," I said, my hands going to my hair. I loved it just the way it was - I could put up with it being dyed, but cut short? No way. I mean, I cut it to shoulder length every summer, but I didn't really consider that short. Not in the sense Liander was talking about, anyway.

He sighed. "Darling, your hair is luscious, I admit, but it is so out of fashion at the moment. Hell, even your brother has more style than you, and that's saying something."

"That's because my brother raids the bank account to go shopping, and I'm the one that worries about where the rent and food money is coming from."

"Yes, but lack of money doesn't excuse lack of style. I have been offering free haircuts for years."

"I like medium to long hair. Anything wrong with that?"

"Normally, no. But long hair doesn't suit the shoes you're stepping into. She's trendy. With it." He flicked the end of my hair. "This is not."

"I know, but - "

"Trust me," he said. "You'll look divine. And your hair will grow back, regardless."

I blew out a frustrated breath, but gave in to the inevitable. I was being ridiculous and I knew it. Besides, I wanted my life back, and if doing that meant cutting my hair extremely short, then surely that was a small price to pay. "If it doesn't look good, I'm going over to your place and destroying all your makeup."

He grinned. "Warning heeded. Now shut up and let the master create."

For the next three hours he had his wicked way with my looks, and I had to admit, the end result was startling. He'd dyed my skin a dark gold, covering the smattering of freckles scattered across my cheeks and shoulders, and giving me the rich glow of a sun worshipper. My hair was as short as I'd feared, the ends barely brushing the bottom of my ears, but had been layered so that it framed my face, giving me a cheeky, yet extremely sexy, look. He'd also streaked it with blonde, which played amongst the natural gold highlights in my red hair and gave the overall effect of three-toned hair. Breathable, bright green contacts completed the transformation.

"Wow," was all I could manage to say. I didn't look like me, even though he hadn't changed all that much.

He gave me a pleased smile. "One more touch, and we're finished."

"And what's that?"

"Voice modulator."

"Ewww."

He smacked my shoulder. "Stop being a baby."

"Hey, it's not the inside of your cheek that thing is being shoved into it."

"I got hold of some of the smaller ones, just because I knew you'd whine." He showed me the round pieces of soft plastic. They were even thinner than the last ones we'd used, their thickness being little more than that of extremely fine paper. Width-wise, they were no bigger than a small coin. Once inserted, no one would feel they were there unless they were actually looking for the things - or I decided to deep-throat someone. Not an option considering where I was going.

"Open wide, darling."

"I bet you say that to all the men," I muttered, but did as he asked.

He inserted the small plastic chips in either side of my mouth, and it still felt like he was ripping out teeth rather than shoving plastic under my skin.

"Owww, owww, owww," I said, when I could. "You could at least use painkillers when you do that."

"Stop being such a baby. Besides, the surface of the modulators art covered with an analgesic and deaden the skin as they go in."

"Hate to tell you this, but it doesn't work."

"Trust me, this would be a whole lot more painful if it wasn't. Now, say something else so I know they're working properly."

"I hope one day someone does this to you, just so you can see it is painful, painkiller or no painkiller." My voice was several octaves lower, and rich with a huskiness that conjured long nights in smoke filled rooms. A threat had never sounded so sexy, let me tell you.

"Very nice," he murmured, then bent and grabbed a backpack. "You wardrobe and worldly possessions."

"Joy." I unzipped the bag. Inside was jeans, tank tops, a pair of sneakers, a belt that had a real-looking spider as the buckle, a couple of sweaters and one barely-there dress. All of them looked worse for wear, worn and wrinkled looking. Except for the underclothing, all of which was top shelf and extremely sexy.

"A female thief would at least ensure decent underclothing, no matter what other state her clothes were in," Liander commented.

"But I'm not a very successful thief if this bag is all I have to show for it."

"Jack told me your cover had to leave Sydney in a hurry, and to pack accordingly. Why don't you change, then I can get on with transforming Rhoan."

"And just what are you going to do with Rhoan?"

"Brown on brown. Boringly so."

I raised an eyebrow. "If you're hoping boring will mean less appealing, I'm thinking it won't work."

He smiled. "No, but he hates boring, so it's a chance to get back at him a little."

I chuckled softly. After changing into the jeans and a dark-green tank top, I studied myself in the mirror. Someone remarkably younger, with a whole lot of sex appeal and attitude, stared back at me. Despite my original misgivings, I had to admit, it was a fantastic look. I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "You do good work."

"I am the best at what I do," he said loftily, then grinned. "Go tell that loser brother of yours it's his turn."

I headed out, and even Jack did something of a double take. "Now that's what I call smashing."

"I think I should be offended about all these sudden comments. It's only a hair and skin-color change. The rest is still me."

"Except for the voice," Rhoan said. "You could make a fortune on those phone-sex lines."

"We'll see who's laughing at whom when he finishes with you, smart ass." I glanced at Jack as Rhoan headed off. "This look doesn't really match the type of person Dia seems to pick."

"As I said, she doesn't pick only prostitutes. Her other choices generally have good figures and looks, are clean disease-wise, and have a background that checks out - someone who needs to make a lot of money and who doesn't mind spreading her legs to do it."

"And what if she doesn't notice me, or doesn't choose me?"

"Oh, she'll at least notice you."

I raised my eyebrows. "And how are you going to ensure that?"

He gave me one of his pleased smiles. "Tonight you're going to save Dia Jones's life."

"And of course," I said, voice dry, "she'll be so grateful, she'll beg me to come along to Starr's estate and shag the balls off his two lieutenants."

Jack grinned. "That's the plan."

"And if she decides not to follow your plan?"

"She will. Poppy is exactly what she's looking for - someone with no morals, who doesn't care what she does for cash."

Nothing like being confident in a plan. Maybe it was the pessimist in me, or maybe it was that pesky, emerging clairvoyance skill, but either way, I wasn't so sure everything would hill into place as neatly as Jack might wish. "And when I get to the estate?"

"Take a day or so to settle in - you'll be watched fairly closely in that period, at least, so don't try anything until you think you're in the clear."

"And when I think I am?"

"You attract the attention of Starr's lieutenants, and drag all the information out of their minds that you can."

It wasn't going to be that easy, and we both knew it. For a start, I was basically still a novice when it came to mind-reading, and my control wasn't always what it should be. Though given what I'd done to Quinn this morning, maybe that was more due to an increase in power than any lack in skill. Maybe I was having so much trouble simply because the power I was controlling was greater each time, and I hadn't the skill to realize it. "What if I can't read their minds?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"What I said. You may have been teaching me the finer points of telepathic control, but that doesn't mean I'll be able to break through their shields. They might even have electronic shields in place."

"Then you figure a way around either event." Great. Thinking on my feet - or rather, my back. Just what I needed on top of trying to survive these lunatics. "How do I keep in contact?"

"You'll have a two-way com-link inserted - it'll also double as a tracker. And I'll be close enough that you can contact me telepathically, if needed."

"So if I get into trouble, I can call in the cavalry?"

"You can call. No guarantee we'll answer." I snorted softly. I'd been with the Directorate long enough that I'd known the answer even before I asked the question. Jack wasn't going to risk the entire mission on getting me out if things went ass up, simply because Rhoan and Kade would still be in there. And unless those two also got into trouble, we were on our own as far as the Directorate was concerned.

"And with operative support like that, you wonder why I didn't want to become a guardian."

He chuckled. "Darlin', you might not have wanted to become one, but you'll be a better one than your brother."

"You can play that tune all you like, but you're not convincing me to sing along." Which was almost a rote protest by now, but I couldn't let Jack think he'd won my complete acceptance.

"We'll see." He handed me a couple of folders. "Study Poppy's profile, then look at the details Kade's been able to provide about Starr's estate."

I flipped through the second of the two folders. "There doesn't seem to be a lot."

"Because Kade only has access to the outside areas. Still, you need to know security and boundary details, as well as profiles of those who work in those areas."

"Because you never know who I might have to seduce for the good of the cause," I said dryly.

He grinned again, and slapped a hand on my shoulder, "Darlin', you're thinking so much like me it's almost scary."

"The day I think like you is the day I'll stand in front of a silver bullet." I waved the two folders. "If you want me to study these, you need not only to feed me, but supply me with caffeine."

"The pizza and coffee is already ordered." He glanced at his watch. "They should be here in ten minutes, and if you're not studying by then, you get nothing."

"Bastard."

"Totally. Go read."

I did.




The air in the tram was rich with the overwhelming scent of humanity. I hung out near the back door, desperately trying to get some of the fresh air coming in from the cracks of the bifold doors. I hated trams at the best of times. They were far worse than trains - smaller, more crowded - and always managed to give me that "penned-in" feeling.

I hitched the backpack onto a more comfortable position on my shoulder, managing to hit the man standing beside me yet again. He swore, and I snarled right back. Poppy had attitude. Right now, in this stinking, humanity-soaked metal box on electric wheels, I was ready to give it.

I glanced at the windows, studying the night flooded street, and noted with some relief that we were nearing my stop. Butterflies stirred in my stomach, but I beat them down ruthlessly I couldn't afford butterflies, or fear, or anything else. For good or for bad, I was now on the path of no return. What might lie at the very end of that path, no one, not even me, was willing to guess. I could only hope it was a return to normal life.

I flicked the small, skin toned disk that had been slotted under the skin behind my left ear, and said softly, "Carlisle Street," as I reached up to pull the cord. The buzzer sounded, letting the driver know someone wanted out at the next stop.

"She's near Luna Park." Jack's soft tone whispered out from the receiver that had been carefully placed into my right ear.

The tram lurched to a stop and the door swished open. I all but fell out, then sucked in several gulps of air. God, even fume-filled, this air felt like heaven in comparison to the tram.

"Your stray vamp on time?" I asked, as I headed up Carlisle Street toward the amusement park. Though the Government had made Luna Park a prostitute free zone, many of them still plied their trade along the side street that ran the length of the park's rear.

"He'll be there in ten."

"You sure?"

"He wants to live, so yes."

I snorted softly. A vamp desperate to survive was more likely to run than risk the Directorate going back on its word. And knowing what I knew of the Directorate, that was an odds-on chance.

"And he's primed to attack, not kill?"

"He was warned."

"So what did he do to gain the Directorate's attention?"

"Killed a couple of humans." I could almost hear Jack's shrug. "Nothing too extraordinary."

Unless you were one of those humans. "So why wouldn't Dia be able to defend herself?"

"She abhors violence."

"And she works with Starr? That's highly unlikely, isn't it?"

"Given we know so little about her reasons for working with Starr, that's hard to say."

I fell silent as several packs of humans pushed past, then said, "Assure me again that these things in my ears won't be discovered once I'm in Starr's estate."

The last man of the last group gave me an odd look. I flipped him the finger.

"These are from Quinn's labs, and there is nothing out on the market like them. And certainly nothing that can trace them. You will have to be careful when and where you contact us, though, because the signal can be traced when in use."

"Kade didn't say anything about the electronic scanning situation."

"No. But then, he's basically restricted to the grounds and scanning would probably be done from inside."

"How did you get these things from Quinn, without him demanding to be in on the mission?"

"We didn't ask. We took."

I raised my eyebrows. "When?"

"Two nights ago."

"And?"

"He came down to Melbourne almost immediately."

So he had been down here, just as I'd guessed. The bastard couldn't even give me one honest answer.

I was better off without him in my life. Truly.

So why did the thought of never seeing him again hurt so much? It wasn't as if I had a future with the man, for heaven's sake. A vampire could never be my soul mate.

"Then he suspected it was us?"

"His security was better than we thought."

I rolled my eyes. "How often have you told me never to underestimate the enemy?" I stopped at the streetlights and looked around. A tall brown haired woman in pale gray stood near the park's famous laughing-mouth entrance. "Spotted my quarry. Try not to jabber in my ear for the next few minutes."

Jack's snort was loud enough to make me wince. "I have done this before, darlin'."

I grinned and crossed with the green light. A quick look at my watch said I had seven minutes to go.

I hitched my pack, took a deep breath, then slipped into Poppy, letting her identity, her attitudes, fill my surface thoughts. Then I strode directly toward Dia.

"Don't tell me the great Dia Jones has been reduced to hawking her wares on the streets," I said, voice low and sarcastic. "Always knew you were a fraud."

Her startled gaze swung around to mine, and in that minute I realized two things. The first was the fact that Dia Jones was completely blind. And second, the unearthly sense of power that had been evident in the photograph didn't even begin to do justice to the true power of her gaze. Even unfocused, her blue eyes were magnetic, unforgiving. All seeing.

Which was an odd thing to think about a blind woman.

"Excuse me?" she said, voice soft yet hinting at ice.

Which suited the complexion that lay underneath the makeup.

"People like you make a living from ripping off the gullible. It disgusts me."

"And is a thief any better?"

I raised my eyebrows, wondering how she'd guessed. Wondering what else she'd guessed. "At least I don't make a living on the suffering of others."

She raised an eyebrow. "And you think I do?"

"Well, what else do you call feeding false hope to suckers?"

She regarded me for a moment, her luminous blue eyes seeming to see right through me. Those butterflies stirred again, though I had no idea why.

"And you do not believe in hope?"

I snorted. "Hope is a fool's desire. I deal with realities."

"Really?"

With a suddenness, and an accuracy, that surprised me, she reached out and grabbed my hand. My instinctive response was to pull away, but I checked the strength of it almost immediately. Partly because I was curious about what she was doing, and partly because the minute her fingers touched mine, an odd sort of energy seemed to run over them. It felt like the power that caressed the air right before a summer storm.

She didn't say anything for several minutes, just gripped my fingers and frowned as the energy of her touch flowed between us. Then she sighed, and smiled as she released me.

"You will save us," she said softly.

Us? What the hell did she mean by that? Her and me? Did that mean she knew about the planned attack? Somehow, I didn't think so, but before I could ask what she actually meant, awareness surged, prickling like fire across my skin. With it came the stench of unwashed, unripe flesh.

Jack's stray vamp had shown up ahead of time.

And he'd brought a couple of friends along.