"You've left one out," Janx said lightly. "The vampires. What do you know about the vampires?"

Margrit smiled uncomfortably and shook her head. "That they say ley don't come from this world at all."

"And what do you believe?"

"I wouldn't even know where to start, Janx. I've seen a selkie change skins and a gargoyle transform in my arms." Color suffused her cheeks as heat ran through her sudden, shocking body memory. More than just in her arms. Alban had transformed as she'd clung to him, arms around his neck, legs around his waist. The implosion of power had been an erotic charge lancing through the core of her, enough to make her blush even now.

Curiosity lit Janx's eyes to pale green, and Margrit forged on before he could speak. "Malik turned me into fog and hauled me through the city, and I've seen Daisani move so fast he looked like he was in two places at once. What I believe is you people aren't human. Anything beyond that I just don't know. Why?" she added warily. "Is there a vampire army congregating in the Hellmouth?"

"Not," Janx said, smiling, "as far as I know. Do you know how many of us there are?"

"A countable number. In the thousands, maybe, not even tens or hundreds of thousands." She wet her lips, studying the red-haired man across from her. "I got the idea there were maybe only dozens of dragons left, but I don't know why. Fewer than anybody but the selkies, though. Maybe it just seems like dragons would be hard to hide."

"The dark ages were not easy on my people," Janx admitted in short tones. "Your Saint George, to give an example."

"If there really was a Saint George and a dragon, or dragons, why don't we have bones and fossils?" Margrit leaned forward, eager for the answer.

Humor came back into Janx's gaze. "You've been waiting to ask that, haven't you? We know when one of ours has died, Margrit Knight. We come and take his body to the boiling earth he was born of. There's nothing left for your scientists and tabloid reporters to find."