are diametrically opposed in this way. We have extra life, but we also feel extra pain, extra pleasure.”
He let this word hang between us, boiling away the air.
“Our senses are keener, our body processes faster,” he continued. “They traded all of this for the one thing that matters to them.”
“Immortality,” I said, remembering Allan’s early explanations on this topic.
“Yes,” Abernathy said.
“You’re saying Oscar Wilde is tucked away somewhere looking like a silk blouse put through a rock tumbler?” I reached down and adjusted the waistband of my classic black slacks, a burp of regret about my recent eating choices rising in my chest.
“Something to that effect. He’ll be back to his dandy old self in oh…” He paused, consulting the ceiling. “A couple centuries or so.”
I sank back against the couch. “Well, shit.”
“Very not good. Now, his followers are all riled up, and have decided vengeance against werewolves is the only proper recourse. The werewolf community regards this as a breach of contract, naturally.”
The puzzle pieces finally slid into their horrifying place. “So begins war.”
“Bingo,” Mark said. “Fights have been breaking out. Everywhere. It’s making the papers, the news. Not just under the normal titles. They’re using words like ‘unexplained, mysterious, inhuman.’”
“That can’t be good.”
“Decidedly not,” he said. “Once humans get involved, we’re all fucked.”
“Hey.” I gave him a mock-pout. “What’s with the anti-homosapien sensibilities?”
Darkness worked its way into Mark’s features. “Human beings are among the universe’s worst xenophobes. Let them discover they’re not the only ones on the planet and watch how fast they reduce the world to scorched dirt and smoldering ash.”
“You talk about this like you’ve had experience.” I uncrossed my legs and tucked my feet beneath me, a gesture of protection against the harshness of his words.
“The Crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, the Killing Fields of Cambodia, the Holocaust, the Salem Witch Trials,” he ticked off. “Humans slaughter each other wholesale over what to call a pancake. You really think they’d be okay sharing their planet with other species? They can barely share the planet with each other.”
Chills danced across my skin. He had a point. He usually did, as much as I was loathe to admit.
“Secrecy is survival. For all of us.” His words had the cold finality of a headstone.
I picked through the rubble of details trying to assemble themselves into some kind of sense in my head. “If there was a treaty, it had to be negotiated by some kind of governing body from both sides, right? Can’t we just explain what happened? Can’t everyone shake paws and make up?”
“It’s not so simple anymore, I’m afraid.” Abernathy leaned his elbows on the desk and collapsed over them, his shoulders sagging. This small movement produced a worried ripple in my stomach. In Mark, I knew this to be a sign of exhaustion or resignation. Neither seemed fortuitous given our current topic of conversation. “When the treaty was signed, the vampires were united under one leader. That is no longer the case. Theirs is not an empire built on bloodlines. All that matters is power, and who can seize it.”
“Who has it currently?”
“Akhenaten. Though Nero’s bid has become increasingly successful as of late. He’s gathering subjects.”
I blinked at him, my face resembling something like a heavily stoned carp. “Nero as in Nero? Batshit crazy Roman emperor of the ostrich tongue appetizers and the eunuch wife?”
“That’s the guy.”
“And the Akhenaten? The only monotheistic Egyptian pharaoh? Nefertiti’s baby daddy? King Tut’s father?”
“The same,” Abernathy confirmed.
“He wasn’t such bad guy,” I reasoned. “He revolutionized Egyptian art. He humanized the stylistic canons. He—”
“Was murdered by priests, resurrected by a Bastet, and now treats humans like Hamburger Helper,” Mark interrupted.
“That was downright snarky,” I informed him. “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”
“Not in recent memory.” His eyes glowed with the eerie amber light that only seemed to wake when he was aroused or angry.
I couldn’t decide which I preferred at this particular moment.
An answering fire burned in my belly. The memory of his naked chest pressed against my back as my knees buckled with waves of crippling pleasure he’d wrought still ghosted my thoughts like an unfinished melody.
But I wasn’t ready to be a werewolf, and he knew it. Not to mention the tiny matter of fine print: werewolves mated for life.
I mean…For. Life.
No small disincentive to Mark, who I regularly annoyed with my ill-fated attempts to run his business, if not his life.
Boss and assistant was a much more comfortable configuration at present, despite our regular clashes over technology,