“What the hell was he carrying this shit around for?” the second vamp demanded. “It’s useful in making captures, subduing difficult prisoners.” Pritkin shrugged. “Then . . . this is a weapon.” “Yes.” “But he was going on a date.” Pritkin looked confused.”

“Pritkin kissed like he did everything else, straightforward, accepting no prisoners and with an intensity that left me breathless. It was hot and hard and desperate, like he was starving for it, and I opened my mouth and took it, because, God.”

“What others?” I asked, as Jonas began examining Pritkin’s little boxes and tins. “Hm? Oh, the other two gods, of course,” he said absently. “Ah, Nuwara Eliya. Yes, very nice.” “Nuwara Eliya is a god?” I asked, confused. He regarded me strangely.“No. It’s a town in Sri Lanka.” I looked at him. “Where they grow tea. Very good tea, too.” Pritkin put a heavy hand on my shoulder, which was just as well. It probably wouldn’t have looked good to choke the head of the Silver Circle to death right before the coronation. Then again, my reputation was shot to hell anyway....”

“Pritkin muttered something that sounded fairly vicious. “My clothes are warded! Even if I wished to accede to your demand, it would not work on them.”“Then strip.”“I beg your pardon?” He sounded almost polite suddenly, as if he believed he couldn’t possibly have heard right.”

“Pritkin put a heavy hand on my shoulder, which was just as well. It probably wouldn't have looked good to choke the head of the Silver Circle to death right before the coronation. Then again, my reputation was shot to hell anyway....”

“Pritkin and Mircea mixed like oil and water, only not so well.”