told both his corporate suitors. "It is too rough for the likes of you."
Sansouci's dark eyebrows peaked like Mephistopheles' with curiosity, while Grizelle merely looked haughty.
"The mighty Delilah," Shez went on, to my glee, "is my ... mouthpiece. You must negotiate with her. I weary of deciding too much. I prefer formulating my preparations or taking swift action. This talk of business and percentages and of 'cloning the shops' is annoying. My workplace is not ... isn't the place for discussing such boring things. You must deal with the mighty Delilah if you wish to bargain, or my serving girl, Fawnschwartz, if you wish to purchase."
Shez withdrew through the tinkling glass bead curtains.
"How rude," Grizelle growled.
I smiled and shrugged. "He's the creative genius."
"'Mighty Delilah,'" Grizelle spat.
"You had to have been there."
"Where?" Sansouci asked immediately.
"None of your business. Now. I'm going to be unavailable for a week or so. I suggest you two meet with your principals and each draw up a business plan I can review on my return.
"I wouldn't advise slipping back to deal directly with Shez. He looks like a big, easygoing lug, and does indeed have a softer side, but he has quite a demonic temper and I can't be responsible for your safety unless I'm present."
"You ... responsible for our safety?" Shadows of Grizelle's white whiskers were coming and going on her dusky face as her human upper lip curled with fury, the urge to shift barely under her control. Her long red fingernails fanned in and out. "I could eat you alive, and almost did once."
Sansouci just smiled, on firm ground again, and donned his deep black sunglasses. "Looks like the mighty Delilah could use an escort to see her safely out."
I jerked my arm out of Sansouci's firm custody. No way did I want it to look like I needed male intervention in front of Grizelle.
She remained, pacing the shop, studying its wares, and terrifying the young clerk with a thoughtful, hungry look.
Sansouci led me down the street to the awning over a deserted doorway.
"What did you do to frost Grizelle's whiskers?" he asked, admiringly. "I knew you were capable of rushing into the lion's den, but she is no cat to mess with."
"We had a discussion. It ended in a draw."
"I don't believe that."
"That's all I'm going to tell you. And you gave yourself away to Grizelle as a vampire, not the presumed werewolf everyone takes you for."
"I wouldn't mind giving myself away to her, were she a client of mine, in her human form. She's not one to gossip, Delilah. Besides, she respects vamps more than wolf boys."
"You need her respect?"
"It'll help negotiations when you return, remember? Come on, Delilah. I'm your pal. I was in Montoya's rescue party. I went into that damn fey maze under the Gehenna with you. You will award me the franchise, right?"
"The word is 'negotiations.' It's not prearranged, even for frenemies like you."
"I've been promoted to a frenemy? That sounds promising. Love-hate relationships can be damn stimulating."
"Cool it. I don't want phone-line chat. I only came outside with you because I want to ask you something about Ric's time with the Karnak vampires."
"Beyond nasty."
"I know that."
"He has the stones of a statue, I'll say that, to resist giving them the information they wanted despite the leeches and the vampire tsetse flies and the lords of the blood-dance siccing every vamp in the place on him."
"I know that. I don't need a play-by-play. I'm beginning to wonder if they did get what they wanted. They've been quiet since then."
"Montoya did not give them a word, I'd never believe that," Sansouci said.
"Your faith is touching," I said, my grin going crooked even as I produced it. I took a deep breath. "What if they weren't just torturing him by draining every last drop of blood?"
"Yeah, they did that. He was dead, Delilah, until you put those ruby-glossed lips of yours on his. Your CPR chest-thumps didn't revive him. Your kiss did." Sansouci's expression grew grave. "Now that I think about it, a kiss than can revive a corpse might off a vampire. Maybe you and I don't have a future, after all."
"Of course we don't! What I'm wondering, all of a sudden, is if the damn twin pharaohs got exactly what they wanted."
His forehead wrinkled under the rakish forelock of silver-streaked black hair, but his eyes remained an unread mystery behind the shades.
Then he nodded ever so slightly and slowly.
"Ric dowses for the dead. He can raise them.