WHILE THE NIGHT brought dreams of bloodthirsty vamps, carnivorous roses, angry bosses, or some combination thereof, the morning brought one small miracle. Jim had been hauled away on a PR crisis of his own: Enchanted Cruises, a fae-friendly cruise line that W&B represented, had run into a bit of a problem with a kraken. Fortunately, the ship was unharmed, but the passengers were more than a little displeased to discover their stop at what was supposed to be the island of St. Thomas turned into a tour of the giant sea monster's head. Needless to say, the client wanted all hands on deck in every sense of the phrase, and Jim left for Florida as soon as he heard the news. While I wasn't usually prone to bouts of schadenfreude, I'd take any excuse to avoid facing the boss for a little longer.

But this temporary mercy could not prolong the meeting I'd truly been dreading.

I arrived at the gates of the Rossi estate five minutes before the clock struck midnight. After giving my name to the man in the guardhouse, the gates creaked open, revealing the most lavish and overdone landscaping I had ever laid my eyes on. Geometrically trimmed hedges and trees bordered shaded cobblestone paths to sculpted flower beds arranged in a symmetric fashion across the entire front lawn. In the east corner, I spotted an artificial grotto with fake stalagmites and hints of sparkling gems that were very likely not artificial. But most garish of all was the fountain--at the center of a shallow, Olympic-sized pool of water stood a statue of Lilith, the first vampire, the naked stone of her body partially obscured by a large snake coiled about her legs. Surrounding the pool's edge were marble renderings of beasts of legend: centaurs, dragons, griffins, and of course, weres, all bowing in fealty to the vampire queen. The extravagant Baroque architecture of the Rossi home seemed almost modest in comparison.

An elderly butler with a funny white mustache greeted me at the door, ushering me to some sort of parlor where I was to sit and wait for Ross. The butler offered me a beverage, which I declined. He exited the room at an abnormally fast pace for someone of his advanced years.

While I waited, I attempted to make myself comfortable on the stiff, white couch, made for style rather than comfort. Clearly, the Rossis interior decorator had spared no expense. The parlor was mostly white with accents of gold and silver, and a crystal-encrusted chandelier with real gold candles hung overhead. Flames leaped in a stone fireplace engraved with the Rossi rose several times over, but the fire was fake and added no real warmth to the room.

"Corrie."

I clutched my hand to my heart. He really needed to stop sneaking up on me like that. Recovering, I nodded at him coolly. "Ross."

He arched a brow at my less-than-friendly tone, but chose not to comment. Smart man. "Shall we?" he asked, offering me his arm as escort.

"Planning on giving me a tour?" I quipped.

"Something like that."

I glanced nervously at his arm. The prospect of being so near to him made me feel slightly queasy.

Ross rolled his eyes, "Come now, Corrie. I promise I won't bite." He paused for a moment. "Well, not tonight."

"Couldn't resist saying that last bit, could you," I muttered, taking his arm.

Ross steered me through the dining room and into a surprisingly well-stocked kitchen. I twisted my head, peering at the modern electric stove and enormous stainless-steel refrigerator.

"That's where we keep the bodies," said Ross.

I gaped at him.

He dragged me to the fridge, and released my arm to open the french-door freezer. "Here's where we store the hearts," he said, tossing a box of frozen peas at me.

"I wasn't trying to insinuate...I'm just surprised you have regular food, is all."

"Some of the house staff are humans. We let them make use of the kitchen."

"Well, that's, uh, awfully magnanimous of you. I know how offensive our food is to you."

Ross looked at me sideways. "That depends," he said thoughtfully. "It's mostly an issue of jealousy, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, take me for example. I was born a vampire, and I've never craved anything other than human blood. I was curious once, as a child, and bribed one of the maids to slip me some chocolate. Nastiest thing I've ever tasted. I've never known it to taste anything but awful...But for those among us who've been Turned, they remember when human food used to taste good. And they miss the sensation of chewing their dinner instead of drinking it. So watching you eat is a reminder of what they're misisng."

"You think they regret it? The Turned?"

Ross turned his dark, fathomless eyes on me. "No."

I waited for him to say more, but he just offered me his arm again.

At the back of the kitchen was a plain door with a padlock, painted white to blend in with the tiled walls. Ross released me once more, pulling an ornate gold key from a pocket in his blazer. The door swung open, giving me an eyeful of sheer nothingness,

"Hold tightly to me until your eyes adjust to the dark," Ross said. "It's quite a few stairs down to where we're going, so mind your steps."

I clung to Ross like a leech, because in the pitch black of the stairwell, I was well and truly blind. Though the situation was far from ideal, even I could recognize that the likelihood of breaking my neck falling down the stairs posed a greater threat than that of Ross accosting me. For the moment, at least, Ross behaved like a gentleman, guiding me slowly, carefully down the hundreds of stairs.

It took a full twenty minutes before we reached the bottom, though to me it felt like hours. I heard a slight clicking noise as Ross pulled down on a string, and a fluorescent lamp lit the small room. The room was empty, except for a heavy steel door at the back. No keyhole was visible, but the door was flanked by a circular machine at roughly eye level. An eye iris scanner. I'd seen one of those in an episode of NCIS. Ross brought his eye to the scanner, the machine beeping three times before the door swung open.

"What do you keep down here, the family jewels?" I joked, trying to lighten the mood as Ross led me down a long hallway.

Ignoring my question, Ross kept his gaze straight ahead. "Tell me, Corrie. What do you know of the Turn?"

"Just the basics. You drink from them, they drink from you, the human dies, and is reborn a vampire."

Ross's mouth twitched. "A crude description, though accurate. It's a bit more complicated than that."

"Oh?"

"For one, there are the obvious precautionary measures - we test all vampiric candidates' urine and blood for disease and other signs of malaise. A human needs to have exemplary health in order to survive the Turn. And of course pregnancy is a dealbreaker."

I nodded. "Makes sense. Certainly cuts down on the malpractice suits."

"That's part of it. But we mostly implemented these standards for selfish reasons." He paused, considering me. "This isn't the face we present to the public, obviously, but most of my kind view vampirism as an exclusive club. And until the government tries to impose regulations, we can use our discretion to prevent certain 'undesirables' from joining our ranks."

"That's kind of disgusting."

Ross shrugged. "I don't make the rules, I just follow them. The process has actually evolved in recent years, you know. In the old days, only the most physically attractive men and women were candidates for the Turn. Now, we consider other exceptional qualities, like superior intelligence or athleticism."

"You forgot your most important prerequisite."

"What's that?"

"Wealth. What are you charging these days? $50,000 a person?"

Ross frowned at me. "It's excruciatingly painful to Turn a human. We have to donate two-thirds of our blood to the cause, and it takes a full month for us to fully recover. It's only fair we're compensated for the discomfort we endure and the time we're out of commission."

I scoffed. "What's one month to a vamp?"

Ross's frown deepened. "Just because we live longer doesn't mean we enjoy pain any more than you humans do."

Chagrined, I held up my hands in apology. "Forgive me, I tend to be a little biased when it comes to these sorts of things. I went to college on scholarship, so I don't like the idea of something that's exclusionary because of the cost."

"Well, we have waved the price in a few rare cases, but the Turn is a long and involved process. If a human supports a family and can't afford to take time off work, that's not our problem."

"How many applicants do you end up turning down?"

"Several thousand every month."

I stopped in my tracks and stared at him. "So many?"

Ross urged me forward, and said, "Why does this surprise you? Immortality's a powerful incentive." He looked at me curiously. "It doesn't appeal to you?"

"Going vamp? No thank you. I could never give up the sun, and a life without chocolate is not worth living."

"I would try to persuade you of the virtues of our lifestyle, but given the current situation..." he trailed off.

My eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What do you mean, 'given the current situation'?"

"Surely you remember the crisis I mentioned?"

I held up my tattooed palm. "How could I forget?"

"Good." We walked in silence for a few minutes until we at last reached the end of the long corridor. "Understand that what lies beyond these doors is to be told to no one."

I gulped and nodded my acquiescence.

"See that scanner to the left?" Ross pointed to a small box with a green-and-white checkered grid. "Hold up your right hand to that red light in the center."

I did as he instructed, and gasped as the machine emitted a sharp laser-like pulse into my palm. "You could have warned me!"

Unrepentant, Ross cut in front of me and repeated the process with his own right hand. The door unlocked with a click. "It's the latest in security," Ross said by way of explanation. "This little sensor recognizes the design of our family emblem. It's a step up from your run-of-the-mill handprint reader."

Men and their technology. Apparently the fascination with shiny electronics crossed species.

"What am I looking at?" I asked Ross as we moved into the forboden area. The sterile, all-white room with its tiled floors and minimilast furniture recalled a hospital. The more I looked around, the more convinced I became that this was some sort of medical center. I spotted several stretchers and what appeared to be an exam table, as well as an abandoned IV pole in the corner.  There was some other fancy machinery I didn't recognize and five or six desktop computers that appeared far more advanced than anything I'd ever worked with. A long blue medical curtain divided the room horizontally. "It looks like a sickbay. I thought vamps were immune to sickness."

Ross dragged over one of the stretchers and hoisted himself onto it. He patted the spot next to him, indicating for me to sit. I crossed my arms and held my ground. "Suit yourself," he said, and used his long legs to propel himself over to the edge of the curtain track. "Before we went public," Ross started, his pale fingers carressing the pale blue fabric, "we were far more - how shall I put this - clandestine with our activities. The Vampyre Board was not subject to human law, there was no elaborate application process for joining our people and only a select few humans were aware of our existence. We chose who we wanted to Turn, and we could choose on a whim." He sighed, reminiscing about the good old times.

"It was an art, back then. Seduce the pretty girl - or boy, as may be the case - draw the human back to your lair, and do your business in the privacy of your own home. They were simpler times."

"And now?"

"We monetized the thing. Made the Turn into a profitable business," Ross said sourly. "All you see here--" He gestured at the equipment around us with his free hand, "This is what the Turn has become. Conducted in highly secure, government-sanctioned facilities throughout the country. They call it an 'elective medical peocedure' now. And those of us who administer the Turn are held to the same standards as a plastic surgeon. We're under the same scrutiny."

"Okay, I get that you don't approve, and forgive my ignorance...but so what? From a PR perspective, this is a smart move. It makes you seem less barbaric."

"Because now we have to answer for this," Ross snarled, and pulled the curtain open.