the bad things happen, sort of. They are the police for us."
"When the police go bad, they aren't police anymore," I said.
"What are they?" he asked.
"Criminals."
"You cannot seriously suggest that we are to fight the Harlequin?" Requiem said.
"Not exactly," I said.
"What exactly then?"
I looked up at Jean-Claude. "What would you do if someone powerful moved in on us like this?"
"I would contact the council in hopes of avoiding open war."
"Then contact them," I said.
"I thought not everyone on the council liked us," Nathaniel said.
"They do not, but if the Harlequin are breaking the law, then that would take precedence over more petty concerns," Jean-Claude said.
"Have you forgotten how petty the council can be?" Requiem said.
"Non, but not all on the council have forgotten what it means to live in the real world."
"Which council member will you contact first?" Byron asked.
There was a knock on the door. All of us with heartbeats jumped. Nathaniel gave that nervous laugh, and I said, "Shit."
Lisandro's voice: "There's a delivery for you, Jean-Claude."
"It can wait," he said, his voice showing some of the strain.
"The letter with it says you're expecting it."
"Enter," Jean-Claude said.
Lisandro opened the door, but it was Clay who walked in with a white box in his hands. A box just like the one I'd found in the rest-room. I think I stopped breathing, because when I remembered to breathe, it came in a gasp.
Clay looked at me. "What's wrong?"
"Who delivered this?" Jean-Claude asked.
"It was just sitting by the holy-item check desk."
"And you just brought it in here," I said, my voice rising.
"No, give me some credit. We checked it out. The note says Jean-Claude is expecting it."
"What is it?" I asked, but was afraid I knew.
"A mask," Clay said. He was looking at all of us now, trying to see why we were so upset.
"What color is it?" Jean-Claude's voice was as empty as I'd ever heard it.
"White."
The tension level dropped a point or two.
"With little gold musical notes all over it. Didn't you order it?"
"In a way, I suppose I did," Jean-Claude said.
I stared up at him and moved away enough so I could see his face clearly. "What do you mean, you suppose you did?"
"I said I wanted to meet with them, did I not?"
"Yeah, but so what?"
"That's what this mask means, ma petite. It means they wish to meet, not to kill us, or torment, but to talk."
"But how did they know what you'd said?" Nathaniel asked.
Jean-Claude looked at me, and there was something in that look that made me say, "They're listening to us."
"I fear so."
"When was the mask delivered?" Requiem asked.
Clay was still looking at us, as if waiting for us to throw him a clue. "We're not sure. I went on break about thirty minutes ago. It must have come while I was off the door."
"How long have you been back on the door?" Jean-Claude asked.
"Maybe five minutes."
"They were listening," Requiem said.
"They knew what Jean-Claude was going to say," Byron said, and his voice held more panic than most vampires would have shown. He just couldn't quite keep all the emotion out of his face and voice.
"What is going on?" Clay asked.
"Something big and bad has come to town," Lisandro said. "They won't tell us about it, but they'll expect us to fight it, and die because of it." His voice sounded bitter.
"What are the rules about telling our soldiers about... them?" I asked.
Jean-Claude took in a deep, deep breath, and shook, almost like a bird settling its feathers. "Mutable."
"Mutable - oh, it depends."
He nodded.
Then I had a smart idea. "I believe we'd know if someone was listening in on us metaphysically, especially another vampire."
"They are very powerful, ma petite."
"Lisandro," I said.
He came to his version of attention; he gave me all his concentration. There was a demand to his dark eyes. If I widowed his wife, he wanted to know why. I thought he deserved to know why, but first things first. "I need this room swept for bugs."
"What kind of bugs?"
"Anything that would let someone listen to us."
"You think they are relying on technology, ma petite?"
"I don't believe that any vampire could spy on us like this without our sensing it."
"They are very powerful, ma petite."
"They are fucking ghosts, lover," Byron said.
"Fine, they're ghosts, but it doesn't do any harm to look for technology. If the room is clean, then we can blame it on spooky stuff, but let's look for tech first."
Jean-Claude looked at me for a long moment, then nodded. "It would