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  I mulled it over for a moment, then tuned back in to Fang.

  “I could solve this by just dragging her away from here, but I would never take away her dream of a number one song,” Fang said. “That’s her heart’s desire, and you’ve heard her voice. And who’s to say her song won’t go viral?”

  “Why are you so willing to help her? Because she’s pretty?”

  “No. We’re connected at some deep level that I don’t understand. Like we’re part of each other.”

  “Deeper than you and Sam once were?” I dared to ask.

  “Don’t ask me that unless you want to fight me over Samantha Moon,” Fang said.

  “We’ve got shit to do, Fang. Don’t get defensive over Sam when you have Jolie in your arms.”

  “Point taken.”

  “Let me rephrase the question,” I said, as I sometimes would when arguing a case in court. “How are you and Jolie so innately connected?”

  “I don’t know. But we are. It’s like we’re meant to be.”

  “How did you meet her?” I asked. Still the lawyer.

  “Blood connects us all.”

  “Of course. That makes sense. Your club.” I shook my head. “Who brought her in the first time?”

  “I did and then Morrie scooped her up like a kitten and started telling her she was going to be a rock star. He’s the one who made her into a vampire. Or so he brags. But he left her in the gutter for me to find and rescue. Literally. Ever since, she’s fed every time from my private label stock. From a cup, never directly from flesh. She doesn’t seem to enjoy drinking blood very much.”

  “You’re kidding,” I said.

  “Not kidding. There’s something just so… un-vampire-like… about her.”

  “I noticed it, too, but I can’t put my finger on what it is,” I said.

  Fang said, “Jolie seems to have a lack of instinct for self-preservation. She’s not the type to leap on the unsuspecting human and just have a quaff when she’s hungry. She’s never fed from the source. Ever. Jolie’s an anomaly among us.”

  I nodded. “If she didn’t have your blood club, things might be different.”

  “Perhaps. Or perhaps she would starve, rather than attack someone and fill her belly with their blood.” He paused. “What’s that look of disgust on your face?”

  “I just prefer the smorgasbords that are cemeteries,” I replied. “Which is why I lock myself away on the full moon. So I don’t disrespect graves ever again.”

  “So, what do you even eat when you’re in your werewolf form?” Fang asked.

  “My butler hunts for me. Franklin’s quite a shot with his old .303 British and he’s fully licensed. Wild pig is open all year in California, but my full moon meals are usually a carcass of whatever’s in season. And, there’s always road kill.”

  He grimaced. “That’s rough. You’re a better man than I am, bro.”

  I laughed. “You just made my night.”

  “She made mine.” Fang tightened his arms protectively around Jolie, who was still out of it in his lap.

  “She’s not breathing,” I said.

  “She’s undead. She doesn’t need to breathe.”

  “Right. And you do it…”

  “Out of habit, mostly. To fit in. She’ll breathe occasionally when she wakes.”

  As the conversation lulled, I phoned Sam again.

  “What is it now?” she asked.

  “After the recording studio,” I said, “Jolie and Morrie are taking a charter train from L.A. to Vegas. They’re doing it tonight.”

  “Oh, great,” she said wryly. “Vampires on a train.”

  “And a werewolf,” I added. “I’m going, too.”

  “Sounds like good times. Count me in.”

  I caught the sarcasm in her voice again.

  “Did you have success in your other quest?” I asked.

  “I did. I’ve got particles of Danny’s spirit gathered up. I hope it will be enough to do the job.”

  “Are you still mad about catching me in the bubble bath with Jolie?” I asked. “Because she’s with Fang now.”

  “You two are so disgusting.” Sam hung up on me.

  Chapter 13

  I pulled into my own driveway and got out, while Fang woke Jolie from unconsciousness to her usual undead state.

  She got out of the car to hug me. “Remember, I hired you to protect me from those clauses in my contract.”

  “As your attorney, it’s on my mind constantly,” I assured her. “Get us tickets on that charter train you’re taking. Actually, three tickets.”

  “Three?”

  “Three.”

  She texted something and then my phone blooped. “Your three tickets on the charter train, sir. You can either print them out or show your phone to get on the train.”

  “Outstanding,” I said. “Thank you.”

  Fang looked deeply into her eyes. “Jolie, you will not tell Morrie we will be on the charter train. Tell me you understand.”

  “I understand and obey. I will not tell Morrie you will be on the charter train.” She said it like a zombie, staring straight ahead. He snapped his fingers and her face returned to its usual expression. She kept talking as if he had not just compelled her.

  “Please don’t let Morrie put that entity in me and don’t let him take away my hit song. I wrote it. I’m going to record it. It’s mine! I don’t care about the money. I just want millions of people to hear it and love it.”

  “I won’t let him put the entity in you,” I promised. I hoped I could keep that promise. That all of us could do it together.

  Fang now smelled like Jolie’s perfume. He got out of the car, too, and gave me a man hug.

  “What’s that for?” I asked.

  “In case we die, werewolf, I want you to know I’m grateful.”

  “I haven’t done anything for you.”

  “Yes, you have. You liked me.”

  It was such a humble thing to say.

  “Go on with you two,” I said. “Get to your lair and have a drink from a willing donor before the sun comes up.”

  “I don’t plan to fry,” Fang said. A thought seemed to occur to him, and he nodded across at Jolie. “How come she has a tan?”

  “I have a magic ring,” Jolie said. “It lets me eat food, too.”

  “I need one of those. Where did you get such a thing?” Fang asked.

  “From Morrie.”

  “Where did he get it?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. He said something about a library.”

  “That makes no sense,” Fang said.

  “Not to me either,” I replied. “In any case, I guess that wherever he got it, it was by nefarious means.”

  “That makes a lot of sense,” Jolie said. “Will I ever see you again, Mr. Kingsley Fulcrum?”

  I nodded. “Of course, you will.”

  “When? Where?”

  “I can’t tell you because Morrie might be able to read your mind,” I said honestly, because werewolves are pretty damn honest, unless the situation calls for deceit. I guess I was being a little too forthcoming with Jolie in this case. Fang punched me in the shoulder. Hard.

  “Ow!” I said and resisted the urge to cuff him back. “That’s where S—where my girlfriend always punches me. It’s her spot for love punches. Stay off it, vampire.”

  “You’re so whipped, werewolf.” Fang laughed his ass off.

  Chapter 14

  I didn’t see the Batmobile replica parked on the street in front of Fang’s members-only blood club.

  I guess Fang knew better than to bring that car to Echo Park where it would get boosted. Instead, he had his sleek, black Escalade again, which was parked right on the street, albeit with The Club locked on the steering wheel. That was a good thing, since later, we would need to use it to catch the charter train to Vegas, and the Batmobile would be far too conspicuous. I was glad of the backseat because I didn’t want Miss Jolie Hart on my lap ever again. Not after Fang had…
had her.

  Especially not with Sam there. Sam was wearing a blonde wig and a wire when she went into Fang’s establishment. She didn’t want to wear the wire, but I didn’t want her in there without one. I had the receiver in my ear. It was about as close as I was likely to be to Sam for the foreseeable future.

  It meant I got to hear some of what was going on as she made her way inside the club. First, she bought a membership to the club and then a punch card. I heard Fang telling her the tenth drink was free. Oh, yeah, there she was introducing herself to Jolie with some fake name. Sam was sitting down next to her at the bar. Good, good. Now Sam was asking about ordering a drink and trying to make up her mind what she wanted, since he offered so many choices.

  Fang said something to her that I didn’t quite get, but Sam laughed in a way that made me so jealous. Damn, she knew how to torture me. I suddenly realized what Fang was saying. He was rattling off the names of the pourable blood brands he had bottled and refrigerated. Or heated. He also told Sam that he had a number of live consensual donors in the back rooms. Sex would be extra. And no, he wasn’t kidding.

  Sam laughed again in a way that made me realize she was tormenting me on purpose and then asked for a shot glass of California Bodybuilder blood.

  “Great choice,” Fang said and I heard a fridge open. He opened a vacuum-sealed bottle with a pop. I could have thrown up. But instead, I closed my eyes and listened to the clink of glasses. Sam’s throat gulped near the wire.

  As appalled as I was that Samantha was actually going through with this to make herself complicit in their eyes, I knew the entity inside of her was reveling in it. Soon, it would rise up and try to control Sam. Sam’s only way of controlling the entity was by drinking the less-appetizing animal blood.

  I heard the shot glass click down and then, an unfamiliar moan from Sam chilled me. So, the entity had a voice when human blood was on the menu.

  Fang offered her another one, but Sam said, “I better pace myself.”

  Then Fang said something to Jolie, and she laughed in that musical way she had. Oh, it was good to have Fang on the inside, knowing that he could also protect Sam. I heard doors opening and closing in the background. Somewhere behind them, fainter, were the sounds of slurping and flesh slapping flesh. I heard a distant female voice caught up in all of it.

  “Nice to meet you, Morrie. My name is—”

  There was a cry and a thump of a body falling. Gee, she faints, he feeds and he wipes her memory. How convenient. It was understood that the club was to be for feeding only. Not killing. I wondered if they ever had any oopsies. I tried not to think about it and just ensure that Sam and Jolie stayed safe. I didn’t know how I’d fare if I had to run in there to save them both from Morrie. Luckily, he was busy, apparently unaware that the blonde sitting with Jolie was actually Sam, the vampire whose entity he wanted to rip out and thrust into Jolie.

  Sam continued to sit at the bar and bullshit with Fang and Jolie. She didn’t go in the back rooms and take part in the live feeding. She was just drinking the pourables with Jolie. I was grateful for that, because even as a werewolf, the thought of live feeding made me sick. Just how consensual was it really on the part of the donors?

  I closed my eyes, unable to stop listening to the train wreck of human lives. Lives that showed up and got paid to either wait in a back room and offer a neck, or go to the in-house phlebotomist’s parlor to get hooked up with a Vacutainer. That was the other conversation I picked up on. Fang had quite a thriving business.

  Now, Sam and Jolie were talking about her song.

  I suddenly got the feeling that I wasn’t alone in my vehicle. My eyes snapped open and next to me sat a slender, handsome guy with long silver hair.

  “Hello, Wolfie.”

  Chapter 15

  I yelped in surprise. How had he gotten in my locked vehicle? The curly wire fell from my ear as I jumped. His hand a blur, he snatched it neatly out of the air.

  “Who the hell are you?” I demanded.

  “Call me Ishmael.”

  “A likely story,” I replied.

  He laughed lightly.

  I put up my dukes. “What the hell are you?”

  “Is that any way to talk to Samantha Moon’s guardian angel?” He looked at my hands and I felt the pressure there physically, pushing them down. He was pushing my hands down with nothing more than his creepy eyes.

  “Since when have you been her guardian angel?” I asked.

  “Since childhood.”

  “Lousy job you did then, letting her get turned into a vampire nine years ago.”

  “There is a reason for that.”

  “Tell me,” I snapped.

  “It is not for you to know,” said Ishmael.

  “If you’re really her guardian angel, then why aren’t you in there with her right now?” I blustered.

  “Why aren’t you?” he asked. “You claim to protect her.”

  “I’m a werewolf, that’s why. The lot of them would scatter the moment I walked in the joint.”

  “They would toss you out on your ear,” Ishmael said lightly.

  “Whatever. Give me my ear thingie back. And be quiet. I need to know what’s going on in there.”

  “Calm down, Wolfie.”

  “Don’t call me that. I have a name. If you know it, show some respect and use it.”

  “I don’t think you’re in a position to demand anything.” The creepy guardian angel closed his fist around the listening device. “Sam and Jolie are in the bathroom. In adjoining stalls. They’re talking about how to do their makeup without being able to see themselves in the mirror. Their girl talk buys us some time.”

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  “What do you want?” he countered.

  “Seriously? You’re going to be childish about this?”

  “I’m asking a serious question,” Ishmael said.

  “Why should I give you an answer?”

  Ishmael sat there serenely. “Because I have information.”

  “Like what?”

  “First, tell me what you want, Kingsley Fulcrum.”

  Since he had finally used my name, I gave in. “I want to protect my client from something. I can’t tell you exactly what it is, because of attorney-client privilege.”

  “Something not obvious in the contract she signed,” Ishmael said.

  “How do you know about that? Were you there?” I couldn’t keep the accusation out of my voice.

  “Let’s just say, I was a fly on the wall.”

  “You were listening in.”

  “I just told you. I was a fly on the wall. Literally.”

  Ewww. “Tell me what you know, Ishmael.”

  “If I do, what will you do for me?” he asked.

  “I won’t kill you.” I turned into the werewolf and bared my teeth, letting saliva drip on him. He cried out in alarm, and I receded back into my human body.

  “Don’t like werewolves all up in your business?” I threatened. “Then talk.”

  “Ugh,” he said and grabbed a tissue from the box on my console. He wiped my werewolf saliva from his cheek. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m just repulsed.”

  “Listen, wayward guardian angel, if that’s what you truly are. I have two things going on. I have to protect my client from certain things you claim to know about in her contract. And I have to protect Samantha Moon.”

  “You’ll find the answers in the contract.”

  “Tell me where. The contract seems irrevocable. I’ll have to go outside mortal laws to save Jolie Hart from Morrie. I also have to save Sam from his agenda.”

  “I’m only going to tell you this once, Kingsley. Stop looking at the copy of the contract. Get the original back in your hands.”

  “That thing burned the shit out of my pinkies.”

  “Maybe that was me, trying to send you a signal.”

  “Stop talking in riddles.”

  Ishmael shook his head. “I’m not allowed to directly tell
you things that I know. There are things you must discover for yourself.”

  “I don’t have the time or patience for your games. Just give me a hint, or I’ll fling my werewolf saliva on you.”

  “Fine!” Ishmael said. “Get the original contract back in your hands. And read between the lines.”

  Just as Sam came walking out of the club toward my vehicle, Ishmael vamoosed into thin air.

  When Sam got in, I tried to tell her about Ishmael, but my lips were stuck together as if they were glued. Clearly, Ishmael didn’t want me to tell her he’d been there.

  “Mmm, mmm!” I said, trying to part my lips to blab about Ishmael.

  Sam thought I was puckering up for a kiss. “Not now, Kingsley. Let’s get away from here before Jolie sees us together. Or worse, Morrie.”

  When my lips finally parted, I gasped in relief. “Did you meet him?”

  “Morrie didn’t recognize me in the blonde wig. He looked right through me like I was some bimbo.”

  “How dare he?”

  “Ow, what’s this?” Sam picked my dropped listening device out from under her butt. “Peel out. Here comes Miss Thing with Morrie on her arm.”

  “Yikes!” I said as my SUV tires left a satisfying scratch on the asphalt.

  Chapter 16

  Vampires on a train. No, it wasn’t the name of a B-movie. It was just another day in my surreal life as a werewolf lawyer from Yorba Linda.

  After a long nap and five pounds of roast beef to fortify myself in case I didn’t get to eat at my favorite Vegas buffets, I went in a cab to Union Station in Los Angeles with Fang and Sam.

  We waited in the second-floor Amtrak Metropolitan Lounge to be called to our charter train and whisked by redcaps in electric golf carts to our track for boarding. It was to be a one-way trip and everyone was supposed to find their own way back home.

  Amtrak’s Metropolitan Lounge was pretty sweet. Massive, comfy leather chairs were equipped with cup holders, swing-back lap desks, and plug-ins for electronics. There were complimentary snacks and beverages. I consumed a couple of big cookies and a couple of sodas. Werewolves have big appetites.