MAY

ON NIGHTS LIKE this, Don Tomas showed that he was a traditionalist of the oldest school. To get his full attention, Selim had to show him the dagger. Without any sense of melodrama, he slipped it from the sheath strapped to his arm and put it silently down on the mahogany table, the point turned toward himself. Selim rarely thought about the dagger, though he wore it every night. He hadn't had any reason to use it for a long time. Los Angeles was a quiet town.

Kamaraju, Alice Fraser, and Michael Tancredi were at the table along with Don Tomas. The five of them watched each other in silence now that the dishes had been cleared away. The dining room's arched doorways were opened to the scents of a low-walled garden. The soft splash of a fountain made a soothing background noise in the quiet room. Beyond the garden wall a spectacular view of the city spread out from the estate's dizzying perch.

Considering that the people in the room rarely spent time together, dinner conversation had been surprisingly affable. Now they waited for Selim.

It was up to him to speak first, since the dagger was on the table. No one had commented on the absence of the Claremont vampire over dinner, so he rewarded their restraint by saying, "Miriam sends her regrets and apologies for not being able to attend. She has a situation that could risk our security and requested a private meeting with me later this evening."

"You will keep us informed of Miriam's actions."

Don Tomas was tall but slender in the wiry, muscular way many of them were, with a low, rough voice and deep, dark eyes. He sat back in the heavy carved chair at the head of the table, half-slouching, physically relaxed while radiating an air of tightly wound tension. His words concerning Miriam hadn't been a request, but they hadn't been a demand, either.

Selim nodded to him. "If her actions touch upon the Hunt in any way, I will inform you and adjust tonight's arrangements accordingly." As usual, Selim was very careful with his words. He was best known for being a diplomat, for finding solutions and compromises among the nests. But in the matter of the Hunt there would be no compromising. The strong-willed group before him had to know from the outset that he was the final authority here. From the hard looks in their eyes he knew imposing his will wasn't going to be easy. But, as Siri would say, he knew the job was dangerous when he took it.

Selim took a sip of after-dinner coffee at the thought and then went on. "What do you want?"

Everyone looked to Don Tomas to speak again. He sat very still and looked at Selim. His silence said that he accepted the role of host but refused to be a leader in any way.

Since no one rushed to speak or even think very loudly, Selim went on. "There's a ritual going on here," he reminded them. He gestured at the silver dagger. "Symbolism, remember? I ask the formal question. You tell me that you want a Hunt. I ask why. You explain. You name a body count. I name one. You don't like it. Eventually we all go home." He looked around, coldly eyeing them one by one, making sure every gaze was on the dagger rather than on him before he went on. The angry, outraged tension in the room was enough to raise a heat haze and sear the skin right off him. Selim ate it up, but he didn't smile. He, at least, still took the formalities seriously. Had to, actually.

"Shall we start over?"

When he looked back at Don Tomas, the hidalgo met his gaze. There was humor and a hint of apology in those burning, dark eyes. "We need to Hunt. We ask permission of the Strigoi Council. We ask the consent of the Nighthawk, the Enforcer of the Law, Tytan, Bubo, Defender, Protector, The Hunter of the City of Nuestra Señora la Reina de Los Angeles."

"That's you," Alice Fraser added. She turned her fascinating smile on Selim. "Does that make you feel better, darling?"

Kamaraju sighed. "This is all so last-century, Hunter."

"We know the drill," Michael Tancredi interjected. He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Let's get down to business, shall we?" He sounded matter-of-fact, but his gaze kept sliding back to Selim's silver dagger.

Finally, Alice said, "Please put that thing away. It's so barbaric."

"It was made by barbarians," Selim pointed out. "It's good to have the reminder."

"Is that what the Council thinks?" Kamaraju questioned harshly. "That we need constant reminders?" Of all those present, Kamaraju was the least able to hide his nerves, his needs, his contempt for Laws he hid behind when it suited him.

"There's no need to be so defensive, Kama," Alice admonished. Her tone was firm but not judgmental. Alice made you want to do what she told you. Selim supposed that was why there was a waiting list to get fostered in her nest.

Kamaraju proved to be as amenable to her charm as anyone else. He gave Selim an apologetic nod, even if he didn't go so far as to say anything.

Selim slipped the dagger back into its arm sheath. He folded his long-fingered, elegant hands on the table before him, empty in sight of all of them. This gesture was even more of a threat than showing the dagger, but Kamaraju chose to ignore the meaning of it. He resented authority of any kind but was too much of a coward to challenge it openly. Though the dagger represented the authority of the Strigoi Council, his hands were Selim's real weapon; it was his right to use them as he chose.

Selim smiled brightly at the community elders. "Let's get this PTA meeting over, shall we? Yes," he answered Kamaraju, "the Council does think we need constant reminders of who and what we are. Fortunately, you have laid-back little me to deal with rather than some stuffy old by-the-Covenant Euro-trash type. We're all all-American vamps here." Looking at Don Tomas as he spoke, Selim asked, "How many?"

"Twenty," Michael answered. "At least twenty."

"We have a list," Kamaraju added.

"It's been twelve years," Alice pointed out. "That's a long time, Hunter. A lot of built-up frustration."

"Only twelve years?" Selim questioned. "It's been twenty years since a formal Hunt in New York. Longer than that in New Orleans. And Moscow-- "

"Moscow -- or anywhere else -- doesn't have a tight-assed -- albeit laid-back -- control freak in charge of things, either," Alice interrupted, as sweet and calm as ever. "We do."

"We need twenty, Selim. Believe me," Mike went on earnestly. "Twenty is a minimum to cover everything on the agenda. We have the names. All you have to do is give your approval."

Selim admired the cold-blooded efficiency of the group, even admired that they'd worked together to come up with a list. He was almost tempted to sit back and let them do what they wanted. Almost, and even almost didn't last that long. As Alice pointed out, he was a tight-assed control freak. "Twenty is far too many," he told them.

"We have three births alone," Michael protested.

Selim had long ago perfected the art of canting a sarcastic eyebrow; he practiced it now. "Three fledglings? I don't think so."

"But--" Kamaraju began.

"No one's died recently," Selim went on. "Or moved away. I would have noticed. There isn't enough territory available to support the addition of three vampires to the community."

"You do know about the human population statistics?" Michael asked with equal sarcasm.

"I'm aware of them."

"How many millions more do you want in the game preserve before you'll let us at them?"

"I don't stop you from feeding."

"You regulate it."

"That's my job. I don't stop you from taking companions."

"You do a wonderful job of managing the city," Alice flattered him. "But, Selim, what about our population? Birth control is all very well and good, but . . ."

"But what? Birth rate isn't the question here. Not entirely. It's a matter of maturity."

"Whose maturity?" Kamaraju questioned. "Mine?"

"Yours," Selim agreed. "Remember Jager? He's a little problem you started that I'm going to have to finish soon."

Kamaraju didn't try to defend Jager. Didn't look like he was interested in saving the lad's life. Good. "Lisa's different," Kamaraju said. "And I promised her--"

"No way is that kid ready," Selim cut in.

Kamaraju pounded the table. "That is not your decision! I promised!"

"Oh, come on," Selim teased. "Won't you miss her when she's gone? If you're bored, take an extra lover," Selim went on. "But do not presume to tell me that a two-year-old companion is ready to change. It isn't going to happen."

"We still need twenty," Michael put in before Kamaraju could protest further.

"What about the other births?" Alice asked. "Perhaps Lisa isn't ready, but the other two . . . My own Angela?"

"Two," Selim told her. "Angela and Hallie. But at least one of them has to foster somewhere else." He looked coldly around the group as he continued. "Seattle lost quite a few when Istvan vacationed there last month. There are always half-empty nests looking for fledglings after he's passed through. Give Marthe in Seattle one, and you can have your two babies."

"You son of a bitch!"

Selim merely smiled at Michael Tancredi's angry snarl. Michael didn't want to know the nasty truths of their existence or remember the harshness of the Laws. Michael sold cars for a living. He believed in negotiations, in deals. He liked to think of himself as a member of some sort of vampire chamber of commerce. His appetites were small, his interests more on the other side of the glass wall than on the inside. He thought he could control the need by making a Hunt seem like some sort of civic activity, make it into a formalized initiation and show of ethnic solidarity. Vampire boosterism. Like a kind of St. Patrick's Day parade with human victims being herded through the streets on their way to being slaughtered.

"Maybe we could have a barbecue afterward," Selim murmured.

"What?" Alice asked.

Selim waved her question away. He concentrated, really concentrated the way only a Hunter could, on Michael Tancredi. Michael had no choice but to listen, his whole being completely attuned to Selim's unwavering attention. "You want me to let you kill twenty humans. It isn't possible. It isn't going to happen. You have a list. Business rivals the four of you would like to get rid of, perhaps? Personal enemies?" Michael couldn't help but nod in answer to Selim's questions. Selim released his hold on the other's mind and looked around in disgust. "Just how stupid are you?" he demanded angrily. "When did you get to be such amateurs?"

Of the four of them, Don Tomas was the only one who reacted, and that was to hide a smile behind his hand. Selim was gratified to know that at least Tom hadn't thought they could get away with it.

Kamaraju looked furious, Alice subdued, Michael frightened. Nobody argued.

Copyright © 1999 by Susan Sizemore