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uncomfortable and he had run out of small talk.
    He looked at her across the table. She had that strange, enigmatic look typical of her sign, as well as the dreamy pale eyes. That faraway look might fool some, but not him. He knew Aquarians were quicker, deeper, and sharper than most. They also were natural-born rebels who instinctively believed the world was in serious need of reformation.
    While he agreed in theory, time had taught him nothing would change until people stopped living in fear—of scarcity, otherness, and fear itself. Fear begat hatred, jealousy, cruelty, and every other ugly emotion that made world peace impossible.
    The thought triggered the memory of a bumper sticker he’d seen once in London. Visualize Whirled Peas. He couldn’t help smiling as he wondered absentmindedly if whirled peas were anything like mushy peas.
    “Why are you smiling?” Her inquiry brought him back to the table.
    Before he could answer, the waitress returned and set their respective plates in front of them. Vanessa scooped up a forkful of eggs and filled her mouth. As she ate, he probed her mind, this time finding a specific tarot card. The Knight of Wands . What the devil did it mean?
    “Do you read tarot cards?” Two could play at the game of random questions, he thought drolly.
    “Yes, as a matter of fact,” she said, seemingly taking the odd question in stride. “What about you?”
    “Oh, aye. I’m an old hand at the tarot, as you might imagine, me being an astrologer and all.” He took a breath, preparing to drop the bomb. “As a matter of fact, I read my cards the other day and drew a card I’m still puzzling over.”
    “Really? What card was it?”
    “The Knight of Wands .”
    She choked, nearly spewing her coffee all over the table. Her reaction pleased him more than it should have. He took a swallow of coffee to wash down his mirth. If he had any sense, he’d take her straight back to the inn and say, “Sayonara, sweetheart.” So, why did he find the idea disagreeable? Was he so desperate for female companionship that he’d risk discovery?
    Not that the risk of her learning his secret was all that great. Fortunately, over time, he’d spun the tale started by the Sinclairs to deflect suspicion from himself. A dark family secret passed down through the generations. A vampire bricked up inside a hidden chamber. It was amazing what people could be led to believe.
    “What do you think it means?”
    “That will depend on what position it was in.”
    He had to think fast. “It was in the position of the crux of the matter.”
    “Was it upright or reversed?”
    “Reversed.” What the hell, right?
    “Hmm…well, I’d have to say the knight most likely represents you or an aspect of yourself. Are you battling with a decision that might have an impact on your identity?”
    His decision about the election sprang to mind. He almost said something about it before he remembered he’d made it all up. He hadn’t drawn the bloody Knight of Wands , he’d seen it while probing her psyche. Though, on second thought, why not tell her what he was wrestling with?
    “I’m thinking about running for a seat in the Parliament, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
    “Why not?”
    “I’m a private person and don’t think I’d like living in the glare of the public eye.”
    “That’s understandable, but I still hope you’ll give it some serious thought.”
    “I intend to.”
    As they resumed eating, something else worried him, which he’d discuss later with Duncan. His dossier. Over the years, he’d taken pains to ensure his legal records were copacetic—the title to the castle, his bank accounts, his birth records and passport, that sort of thing. Luckily, there were firms that catered to the legal needs of immortals who chose to make a life in the Hitherworld.
    He was now Callum Lyon X on paper. His curriculum vitae, however, was far from foolproof. What if some shrewd opponent or journalist should