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while, Marc."
     
    He shrugged. "They're hauling in a shrink for us to talk to, you know, talk about how helpless and arbitrary the whole thing was." He seemed to make a determined effort to look cheerful. "Anyway, you were saying about Dorothy, Mr. Alonzo…"
     
    "She was wonderful," the Spaniard said at once, and I almost liked him for his obvious attempts to cheer Marc up. "Illuminating, gorgeous. It was impossible to take your eyes off her. Unless you were the king," he added, with a nod in Sinclair's direction.
     
    "Thanks for not killing her and dumping her in an alley somewhere," I observed sweetly.
     
    "Her neck, her voice box, was a work of art," he said, having the colossal gall to sound wounded. "Risking damage to such delicate organs with my teeth, even for the sake of eternal life, would have been sacrilege."
     
    "And ending Sophie's life was not?"
     
    Marc shook his head sadly, unwilling to completely damn this magnificent Spaniard. "Sophie's a great chick, man. You shouldn't've killed her. A great chick."
     
    "Who would, if my math is correct, be at least fifty years under her cold, stony grave by now had I not turned her. Assuming she died of natural causes."
     
    "That wasn't for you to decide," I said sharply. "Vampires can drink without killing people. You didn't have to take it that far."
     
    He spread his hands. "This argument is pointless. The girl is dead. She hates me for it. There is nothing I can do about this now."
     
    Marc looked at me. "Good point." I could see he was half in love with Alonzo already.
     
    "Go make yourself some Malt-O-Meal," I snapped. "This is vampire business."
     
    "Hey, I know when I'm not wanted." He didn't move from the couch.
     
    "You're not wanted," I said.
     
    "Oh." He got up. "Well. It was nice to meet you. Maybe you can tell Betsy and Sophie you're sorry and, you know, hang out for a while."
     
    "Perhaps." Alonzo held out a hand, and Marc shook it. "A pleasure, Dr. Spangler. I look forward to our next conversation."
     
    Marc was staring raptly into Alonzo's golden-colored eyes. "Yeah, that'd be good. I'm off for the next two days, so maybe—"
     
    "Maybe," I said, seizing him by the back of his scrubs, "you shouldn't break your dating drought with this guy."
     
    "Hey, I deserve a social liiiife," he trailed off as I practically threw him into the hallway. It was my night for tossing men out of the room, it appeared.
     
    I stuck a finger in Alonzo's bemused face. "Don't even think about it."
     
    He licked his thick lips. Which probably sounded gross, but it wasn't—it actually called attention to his lush mouth. "I assure you, Majesty, I do not make a move toward that delicacy of a man without your express permission."
     
    "Ha!"
     
    "But it is the truth," he said, sounding vaguely hurt. "Why else am I here, if not to make amends for yesterday?"
     
    "To figure out how to kill me, after a rotten evening?"
     
    He smiled at me. It was a nice smile; lit up his whole face and made him look like a pleasant farmer from Valencia instead of a rotten undead fiend from hell. "Oh, Majesty. Forgive me if I patronize, but how young you are to me. There was nothing rotten in last evening. Just a simple misunderstanding. To kill you in response—forgive me, to try to kill you in response—would be an overreaction of the worst sort."
     
    Tina and Sinclair looked at each other and I could sense their unspoken agreement:
it's a peace offering. Take it
. As usual, when I was the only one who felt a certain way, I got pissed.
     
    "Look, we can't just paper over this, okay? You weren't here two minutes before you plopped a big steaming pile of shit into my lap. Last night was
bad
, get it?"
     
    "Majesty, lopping off heads and cutting off penises and flaying strips of skin and drying them out like jerky, then making innocent children chew on them,
that
would be bad. Not being allowed to feed until you lose your mind, fighting over victims like dogs in a pen, that is