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my confidence with the idea that whatever happened, I could endure, like I have always endured.  Truth is, I felt pretty dejected, and the asshole limo driver’s smug nasty thoughts weren’t helping.
    The driver deposited us in the hallway and left for his next job assignment.
    “Move it.  We’re almost there, but you already know that, don’t you?”  Lia smirked, a wicked gleam in her eye as she waved her pistol at me.
    The penthouse apartment was massive.  The word apartment didn’t even come close to describing the opulent elegance of the interior.  The place reeked of money.  All rich dark wood tones interspersed with creams, tans, reds, and browns.  A few maroon pieces here and there.  It reminded me of something in an Architectural Digest I saw in a doctor’s office waiting room.  I stood in a “Lifestyles of the rich and famous” exposé.  Artwork on the walls – really expensive art – probably worth thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands.  I don’t know shit about art, but I could smell the money.  Here I stood in my twenty dollar bathrobe, feeling more and more like a rat in a trap I might never escape, a trap constructed of money, power, and murderous intentions.
    “We have a guest?  What have you done, Lia?”
    The sound of a bodiless voice startled me.
    “We have a problem.”  Lia snarled, casting a hateful look my way.
    I opened my mouth to defend myself only to shut it as a man walked out of the shadows, a man who could only be the Master .  Tall dark and handsome, at least six feet, he stared down at little ole me.  Slender, he had a sinewy grace.  He wore his long dark brown hair slicked back into a tight pony tail, along with a neatly trimmed goatee.  He had pale flawless skin, an alabaster statue.  His cold eyes were a light shade of brown, almost hazel, with little spokes of green and gold.  It seemed his eyes actually changed color from brown to green to gold as he looked back and forth from me to the freaky Asian psycho bitch.
    He was one of those rare people who radiated power and confidence.  It flowed off him like water, royalty.  This guy had to be Sir something or other, Your Grace, the Duke of Fuck-me-running.  I knew he was a Spaniard because Lia knew it, but from him I read absolutely nothing – utter mental silence.
    He was a non-entity, a blank slate.  If I closed my eyes I wouldn’t even know he stood in the room with me.  It felt very disorienting.  I always knew who stood nearby.  I could place them by their thoughts and emotions.  I’d never encountered anyone with a mind so completely blocked.  I felt blinded.
    As he walked towards us with that flowing grace, he and Lia communicated silently about me.  I picked it up through Lia’s mind, the weirdest thing I’d ever heard.
    “She’s a telepath.  I can’t compel or control her.  She knows what I am, we have to eliminate her.  She’s fully aware I bit her three times.  We can’t let her live with what she knows.”
    It all poured out in a whiny stream of puke, she projected her anxiety about me straight at him.  And then shit really got weird.  He spoke to her, not out loud, but directly into her mind.  I did a double-take to verify his mouth hadn’t moved.  I could hardly believe it.
    “You think she is a threat to us?”   His lips hadn’t moved.
    “She knows too much, who knows for sure how much.  She’s probably listening to us at this very moment.”   Her lips didn’t move.
    They both turned to me simultaneously, staring, digging into me with their freakishly intent, accusing gazes.  I looked away, doing my best ‘ who me’ act.  He looked back at her, unhappy.
    “Perhaps she is, but who would she tell?  Who would believe tales of vampires?”
    My blood froze cold.  Vampires – for real?
    “It’s not for me to make suppositions.  I acted on the potential threat.”
    “She wasn’t truly a problem until you brought her here.  Now you have exposed us