Dahlia was proud that the mansion, which housed the vampire nest of Rhodes and was the area headquarters for all vampires, was polished and sparkling, clean and newly redecorated. However, Dahlia’s pride had a certain nostalgic tinge. Though for decades they’d all tried to prod the old sheriff, Cedric, into installing new carpet and modernizing the bathrooms, she found that she missed the old fixtures. And she missed the former sheriff, too. Maybe he counted as an old fixture.

“I’m going to talk to Cedric,” she said.

“Not the smartest move, homes,” Taffy cautioned. Taffy always tried to use current slang, though sometimes she got it wrong or was off by five years . . . or ten.

“I know,” Dahlia said. The new sheriff, Joaquin, was certainly keeping an eye open to see who approached Cedric; but Dahlia was not afraid of Joaquin, though she did regard him with a certain respect for his devious ways. The ousting of Cedric had been handled with a sort of ruthless finesse. Cedric, sunk into what he thought would always be his cushy job, had been foolishly complacent and unaware. “I’ll join you later,” she told Taffy. “Though I may stop to have a word with Melponeus, too.”

“Playing with fire,” Taffy said, grinning broadly.

“Yes, we did that last time.” Even half-demons could produce fireballs. The memory caused Dahlia to have her own tight smile on her lips as she approached the former sheriff.

“Cedric,” she said, inclining her head very slightly. Even Dahlia didn’t care to provoke Joaquin by appearing to offer Cedric obeisance.

“Dahlia,” he said, his voice laden with melancholy. “See how the peacock preens?”