Ashwini rolled her eyes. “I guess it’s better than John Smith.”

“No, that’s his real name. Plus, since he was good enough to provide photo ID when he booked, I know it’s my target.” He grabbed a deep blue woolen scarf and wrapped it around his neck twice. “I know what you’re thinking, that he’s throwing me off the scent—but I did my research. Bill Smith is an accountant who goes by the book.”

“Then why is he attempting to skip out on his Contract?” Only the morons, the deluded, and the arrogant tried to cheat the angels. Especially when the resulting punishments were known to be pitiless. Ashwini would’ve felt sorry for the vamps she brought back to face punishment except that no one had to choose vampirism. Once you made that bargain, though, it was your responsibility to keep it.

After all, there were no take-backs when it came to the near-immortality bestowed in return for the hundred years of Contracted service.

“Bill Smith thinks he found a loophole,” Demarco answered with a roll of his own eyes. “That’s according to the certified letter he left his angel. And there might be a woman involved. Isn’t there always?” A woebegone look. “Us poor males don’t stand a chance.” Gloves on, he left with a quick laughing salute, promising to message them if he did in fact pick up Bill Smith at the bus station.

Alone with Honor, Ashwini said, “Dmitri giving good blood aside, how’s the vamp thing going?” They’d talked after Honor’s return to the city, but her friend continued to adjust to her new life.

“It is a bit weird, realizing I’m not human any longer. I forget all the time and then something reminds me and I go through the surprise of it all over again.” She snuck a taste of Ashwini’s chocolate milk. “But no one’s treated me any different—at the Guild, I mean. I was worried about that, you know?”

“Idiot.” Only way a hunter lost his or her right to the loyalty of her brethren was if she betrayed them. “You do realize you’ll now be a hunter for eternity?”

Honor’s smile turned her eyes an incredible jeweled shade that was breathtaking, her immortality unmistakable at that instant. “I’m happy, Ash. Happier than I’ve ever been. Dmitri . . .” A shake of her head. “I don’t have the words.”

“You don’t need them.” Ashwini had sensed the soul-deep connection between Honor and Dmitri the first time she saw them together. As if two broken halves of a whole had found their way to each other, and in the process healed the fractures in one another.

Sometimes, she thought Janvier could do the same for her, if only she’d let him in.

Honor closed her hand over Ashwini’s where it lay on the table, the two of them having been friends long enough that the other woman wasn’t threatened by her abilities. Ashwini, in turn, had no problem dealing with Honor’s touch. Even with the horror she’d suffered, Honor was Honor, no ugly surprises, just an old, old soul. The nightmares that had tormented her in the aftermath of her abduction were long gone, vanquished by a fierce spirit that had chosen love over darkness.

“It’s a wonderful thing, Ash . . . and you can have it with Janvier. He adores you.”

“I know.” It was a rasp of sound, the need inside her a vast emptiness.

She adored him, too.

And because she did, she had to find a way to tell him the truth.

16

Standing on the roof of the Legion high-rise, the snow having passed, Elena looked at the architect cum structural engineer who had the task of converting it to the Legion’s specifications. “Can you do something with the roof so we can insert a skylight?”

Twisting her lips, the stunning ebony-skinned vampire named Maeve glanced down at the flat surface. “I could, but if you’re wanting to maximize natural light, I say we take off the entire roof and replace it with glass.”

“Can we do that?” Adrenaline shot through Elena. “Structurally, I mean?”

“Don’t see why not.” Maeve’s accent was so modern Manhattan, her clothes so edgy—like the kaleidoscope of color that was the structured, asymmetric ankle-length coat she wore—no one who didn’t know would’ve guessed she’d been born on another continent over five hundred years ago.

The woman, with her high, slashing cheekbones and short crop of tight curls, had used the years to become multiqualified and was considered one of the best in her line of work. “Only thing is,” Maeve continued, “I’d have to work out the weight tolerance—Legion might not be able to gather on it in such large groups.”

Elena looked at the Primary, standing silent to her right. “Preference?”

“Glass.” The rim of blue around his irises appeared to burn in the icy winter light. “If we can gather in a place of earth, we do not need the roof.”

“So,” Elena said, “we make the entire penthouse a glass box.” With floor-to-ceiling windows designed to be opened so the Legion could fly in and out, though they’d have to figure out how to conserve heat in winter for the plants.

“No.”

Maeve blinked at the Primary’s interjection. “No?”

“Can you make the garden deeper?”

“You mean merge two or more floors?”

A curt nod.

“Yes,” the other woman said slowly. “But I think what’ll work best is if we don’t take out the entire floor between the two levels—instead, we can cut it out in parts.” She did a rough sketch on her tablet using a stylus. “See, like this?”