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first. The knock at the door gave her the opportunity to veer off subject, and she was glad for it. “Come in,” she said, and was not remotely surprised when Rocturnus slunk sheepishly through the door.
     
    “Megan, I’m sorry.” If he’d possessed a hat, she had little doubt he would have been turning it in his anxious fists at that very moment. As it was, he twisted his long-fingered hands together and stared at the carpet. “I should have been here.”
     
    “It’s okay, Roc. You didn’t know.”
     
    “You didn’t call me.”
     
    “I thought it might—oh, never mind. It’s not like you would have been able to do anything about it if you had been here anyway.”
     
    He straightened up, insult written all over his face. At least so she assumed. Her vision was a little bleary, haloed around the edges. “I could have helped. I could have done something.”
     
    She sighed. “Right. Of course you could have. I’m sorry, Roc.”
     
    “Do you think it’s to do with the FBI?”
     
    “No, they wouldn’t—” she started, but Greyson cut her off.
     
    “FBI?”
     
    Oh, right. She hadn’t had a chance to tell him yet. “They came to see me today.”
     
    “What, the entire Bureau?”
     
    She would have laughed, but her body didn’t seem to be capable of it. She settled for a sleepy smile. “No, just one agent. She came about the Bellreive. Offered me immunity.”
     
    “In exchange for what?”
     
    “Testimony. About what happens at the meeting, I guess.”
     
    “What was her name?”
     
    She told him. “Oh, and one of my patients quit because he’s going to have an exorcism instead.”
     
    “What?”
     
    She repeated it, or at least started to. Halfway through the story she had to stop; he was laughing too hard for her to continue, and Roc was practically falling on the floor.
     
    “Stop, it’s not funny. Well, maybe it’s funny. But no, don’t laugh, you’re shaking the bed.”
     
    That plea, at least, had an effect. With obvious difficulty Greyson got himself under control; she didn’t think she’d ever seen him laugh that hard. Roc continued to giggle, a subtle, bizarre backdrop as she shut her eyes again.
     
    “Exorcism? Darling, your patients never cease to amaze me. Exorcism, of all things.”
     
    “Ted could really get hurt.”
     
    “And that’s the choice Ted made. He’s a grown man. If he wants to do something incredibly stupid, that’s his prerogative. I somehow think we have more important things to worry about right now, don’t you?”
     
    She opened one eye—opening both seemed like too much effort—and glared at him. As much as she could with one eye anyway. “I’m trying not to think about it.”
     
    “Right. Well. Enjoy one last night of not thinking about it, then, because tomorrow we need to get to work. In more ways than one.”
     
    “The meeting.” She sighed.
     
    “The meeting,” he said. “And the fact that whoever it is who’s trying to kill you will probably be there.”
     

Chapter Five
    The antivenom or antiallergen or whatever it was Maleficarum had given her was effective. Either that or the effects of the litobora venom were short-lived.
     
    Either way, by the following afternoon she felt fine, at least physically. Mentally? That was another story.
     
    Although she had to admit, feeling lousy in a luxury suite at the Bellreive beat the hell out of feeling lousy in her own home. It even almost beat feeling lousy at Greyson’s place, the massive white mansion that was his official residence as Gretneg of his Meegra. Ieuranlier Sorithell was beautiful, and more than that, it was familiar, and some of her stuff was there. Not a lot of stuff, but some things, a toothbrush and bottles of all her shampoos and such, a few spare items of clothing kept in a drawer.
     
    But hey. Some of her stuff was there at the hotel, spilling out of her suitcases, and the hotel had a stunning lake view that not even the Ieuranlier could match,