Impatiently, I shook the guilt away. If she was in danger, she needed to call the cops. That was what they were there for.

Collecting together my last waning bits of energy, I got up and double-locked the door. I turned to the table and reached for the Glock.

And paused. Sitting on the table alongside the gun, nestled between its frame and trigger guard, was the ring she'd been wearing.

I picked it up and took a closer look. It was a silver band, with no stones or other additions. The design was simple, but had a certain elegance to it. It was also clearly handmade.

And the fact that she'd left it behind probably meant she intended to return.

Wonderful.

Dropping the ring in my pocket, I returned the Glock to its hidden holster beneath the tea table. Then, leaving my carrybags where they were, I staggered off to bed. Ten hours of sleep, and I might finally feel Human again.

I didn't get ten hours of sleep. I got exactly four hours before the sound of my door chime dragged me awake again.

I pried my eyes open and focused on the bedside clock. Three-fifteen in the morning. Even teenage clubbers had called it a night by now.

The chime came again. Fumbling for my robe, I worked into it with one hand while reaching under my bed for the Heckler-Koch with the other. There were very few people who paid social visits at three in the morning, and most of the ones who would be interested in my door weren't the type I wanted to meet unarmed.

The Heckler-Koch's holster was empty. Apparently, I hadn't sent Lorelei into the wilds of New York unarmed after all.

The door chimed again. Padding my way silently to the front room, I retrieved the Glock from beneath the tea table and stepped to the side of the door. "Who is it?" I called.