----------- ------------------Three days later . . .----------- ------------------Shamira was beginning to wonder how undercover cops and agents dealt with the mind-numbing boredom of stakeouts. She'd thought that there would be cool gadgets, skulking, espionage . . . in fact, there was a lot of waiting in vehicles that slowly began to fill with junk food wrappers and Starbucks cups. The six of them had spent their first day in Savannah getting the lay of the land, and then had broken into teams to start investigating Lacroix's haunts and patterns. For some unknown reason, Henry had decided to pair Shamira with Banshee, and the two women were not exactly bosom buddies. Shamira had not spoken to the assassin since she and Renata had thrown Shamira into a cell at Shane's behest.At the moment, they were parked near a warehouse owned by their adversary, waiting for the sun to fall so that they could make their way in. It was nearly impossible, the

---------- ----------------------------A few hours before dawn . . .---------- ----------------------------"It's about fucking time," Shamira bitched. "I thought this guy was never going anywhere."Banshee glared at her. "Yes, I am sure your time went by so much slower than mine, considering the hour long phone conversations with your sister and with Clara."Shamira suppressed a grin. "Total agony.""For one of us anyway." Banshee made a point of cleaning out her ear with one fingertip. "Let us give chase.""Let us give chase," Shamira mimicked childishly. "Who talks like that?" She started up the car."I am beginning to think that I liked you better when you were not speaking to me."Jonas headed northwest of Savannah, finally turning off to Dublin and seeking out one of the seedier areas of town. Jonas was driving alone, which meant that he was very secure or incredibly stupid. When he pulled into

Clara paced the floors of Lord Stapleton's manor in a frenzied manner, unable to see or think straight. Her friend and lover had disappeared almost a day ago, and the search team had not reported anything in the last several hours. What was left of the logical part of her mind knew that Shane, her vampiric lord, master, and friend was doing the right thing, diverting only the resources that he could while keeping his eye on the major prize, namely his enemy in Savannah, one Lord Lacroix. Lacroix had defied his elder lord, the Tribunal, and just about everyone in his quest for power, and was now connected with the evil morning star drug trade. And to Clara, the only thing that mattered was that Shamira was missing.The only solace that she was able to take was that Shane had finally relented and allowed Renata, his werejaguar chief of security, to lead the search for his missing dark child. The werewolf lord of Huntsville, namely one Clyde Pritchard, had lent a contingent of

-------- --------------------Many hours later . . .-------- --------------------Shane was standing anxiously on his golf course as the helicopter he had sent to retrieve Shamira slowly began to land on the green. The entire house that was still present in Atlanta was outside waiting, with Clara standing so close that the chopper's turbulence was threatening to knock her off her feet. Even the Representative and her entourage were out. It was unusual for this many vampires to be awake during the daytime, and it was clear that the Representative was incredibly uncomfortable. But no one was going to miss this.When Renata had called, she had sounded so angry, and she had warned Shane that Shamira was in worse shape than anything she had ever seen. Tabitha, one of Shane's newest converts and his new household medic, had gotten her miniature operating room ready, and was in constant contact with Renata. She had to push past Clara when the chopper la

--------------- ---------A week later . . .--------------- ---------Shane stood on his balcony, staring down at where Shamira sat in her wheelchair, overlooking . . . nothing. This is what she had been doing since she had agreed not to kill herself, at least not as long as she was linked to Clara anyway. She barely spoke to anyone, though there was always at least one or two members of the house nearby in case she needed to. Even his field agents had taken turns coming back up to Atlanta for a few hours to check in on her, though none had any luck getting through to her.Banshee's return had been particularly painful to watch. Shane knew that his eldest child held herself responsible for Shamira's injuries, and it hurt her to feel that she had failed. Banshee and Shamira had sat next to each other, not saying a word. The assassin had wrung her hands so hard that she had broken one of her own fingers, a sure sign that she was distressed. They ha