“I’m not going to Vegas with you,” I said immediately.

Molly wrinkled her nose. “You are zero fun.”

After that, she changed the subject, and then we put in a movie, and while I won’t say that I forgot about the vampires-take-Vegas problem, I did sort of let it fall off my mental list of things to worry about. Los Angeles was my territory. Southern California, at a stretch. I could understand how this Vegas thing was a vampire problem, but it still wasn’t my problem.

Until, of course, it was.

On Sunday evening, just a few days later, Shadow and I were at Jack and Juliet’s new condo in Sherman Oaks, listening to ten-year-old Riley tell a story about a boy at her school who had arrived wearing two different shoes. “And they didn’t even look alike. He was obviously super embarrassed about it. So my friend Ella—she’s on my soccer team—and I traded our left shoes during gym class,” she said, her big brown eyes sparkling. “And then two of the boys did the same thing at recess, and by lunchtime Mrs. Turner just did not know what to do with us.”

She was sort of earnestly mischievous about it, and we were all laughing. Under the table, I could even feel Shadow’s clubbed tail thumping in solidarity.

Riley preened a little, savoring the attention the way only kids can. Jack shot Juliet a little smile, one that was full of pride and awe at the cool little person Juliet had created. I’d never expected to see an expression like that on my brother’s face. It was kind of amazing, and made me a little sad, too.

Riley’s brother, Logan, meanwhile, slipped yet another bite of hot dog under the table. We were eating one of Juliet’s specialties: gourmet hot dogs with bread wrapped right around them, plus corn on the cob and a quinoa salad. Shadow had wedged herself under the small table with her head turned toward the kids, who, as far as I could tell, snuck Shadow more of their food than they ate. I said nothing about this. It wasn’t every day you got to see a thoroughly delighted bargest.

Logan, who was the most serious seven-year-old I’d ever met in my life, turned to face me, pushing up his glasses. “Aunt Scarlett,” he began, and my heart thrilled at the words. They both called my brother Jack, but they called me Aunt Scarlett, which made me smug as hell. “My friend Aidan, from support group, just got a service dog like Shadow.”

“Aidan had eye cancer,” Juliet supplied. My sister-in-law was about my height, with Tina Fey–style square glasses and a curvy figure. Her mother was Korean, which was where she got the glossy black hair. “He’s been very excited about getting the dog.”

“That’s cool,” I replied, a little cautious. Jack and his family had bought the cover story that I needed a seizure-alert dog because I’d suffered a minor brain injury in a car accident while Jack and I were estranged. It hadn’t been easy to convince my doctor brother that I really had epileptic-type seizures, especially since I never seemed to have one in his presence, but I had showed him a letter from my neurologist, and by now they were all used to Shadow accompanying me everywhere.

“Aidan’s dog is a black Labrador,” Logan went on, pronouncing it carefully, “and he says everybody knows Labradors make the best service dogs. So I was wondering, what breed of dog is Shadow?”

Hearing her name, the bargest thumped her tail again. “Well,” I said, trying for as much honesty as possible, “she’s a mutt, or a dog that has more than one breed mixed together.”

Eager nod from Logan, obviously wanting me to continue. “She’s partly a breed called Peruvian Hairless, which is a very funny-looking dog with no hair, just like it sounds. And I think she’s got some kind of tracking dog, like maybe a bloodhound, and maybe even a tiny bit of wolf. Or husky,” I added, glancing at Juliet. If she was bothered by the idea that Shadow might be part wolf, it didn’t show in the smile she shot me.

“Do you think I could take a picture of Shadow to group so I can show Aidan?” Logan asked hopefully. “Mom said I could.”

“I said you could ask Scarlett,” she corrected.

I smiled at him, but there was just no way I could put photos of Shadow out in the world. How to explain that to a seven-year-old who wasn’t allowed to know about my life? “I’m sorry, buddy,” I said, “Shadow is a really special dog, and I’m not sure I want other people looking at pictures of her.”

He thought about that for a moment, while Jack and Riley made faces at each other over glasses of orange juice. “Are you afraid people will make fun of her,” Logan asked, then lowered his voice to a whisper, “because she’s ugly?”

I kind of wanted to duck my head under the table to see how Shadow responded to that, but instead I suppressed my smile and tilted my head to the side, pretending to think it over. “Maybe a little bit,” I told Logan. “Tell you what: How about after supper I’ll help you find a picture of a Peruvian Hairless online, and you can bring that to school?”

His lips twisted sideways as he considered this. “Trust me,” I added. “They’re really weird-looking.” This was true, although from what I’d read those dogs topped out around sixty pounds, and Shadow weighed three times that. She really did look like something Dr. Frankenstein had cooked up in a lab, minus the whole “using dead parts” bit. But the idea cheered Logan up, and he nodded happily.

Later, as we were clearing the table, Juliet’s cell phone rang. She dug it out of her back pants pocket and checked the screen, her brow furrowing. “Why would your boss be calling me on a Sunday night?” she said to both Jack and me. It was common knowledge that Jack and I shared an employer . . . but I couldn’t think of a good reason for him to call Juliet. A wave of fear stirred in my extremely full stomach, but I managed to shrug at the same time Jack suggested, “Butt dial?”

Juliet held out her free hand, palm up, like “what are you gonna do,” and answered the phone. “Oh, hello, Beatrice,” she said, giving us a confused glance. “No, I can talk.”

At that moment, Logan raced through the kitchen with Riley at his heels, shouting at him about her tablet. Juliet winced and said, “One second, please,” into the phone. She gave Jack a look that said “all yours, dude” and retreated into their bedroom.

While Jack got the kids calmed down, I finished cleaning up the kitchen, my thoughts whirring. My humans-only world and the Old World didn’t collide often, but I freaked out whenever they did. A vampire calling my sister-in-law at home, on a Sunday night? Definitely cause for alarm.

The only thing I could think of was that the call could be wedding-related. Jack and Juliet had only been married for a couple of months, and Dashiell was Jack’s boss, too. Maybe Beatrice wanted to see if Juliet had received a late gift? Dashiell and Beatrice had made a brief stop at the small reception—the wedding itself had taken place during the day—but perhaps she’d forgotten the gift that night?

It didn’t seem likely. Not when Beatrice had three separate assistants, two of whom were human.

I got more and more nervous as the minutes ticked past without a sign of Juliet. I helped Logan find a picture of a Peruvian Hairless online, which took all of two seconds on Wikipedia, and then he disappeared into his room to play with his Legos. Jack invited me to play Settlers of Catan, which he’d been teaching to Riley. I tried to focus on setting up the complicated game, but Juliet still hadn’t returned by the time all the pieces were organized.

The bedroom door finally opened right after Riley managed to swipe the Longest Road card from Jack. Juliet practically bounded out of the bedroom. “You’re not going to believe this!” she crowed, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Beatrice is throwing me a bachelorette party! Well, belated bachelorette party,” she added hastily. “In Vegas!”

Chapter 4

Oh, no.

It hadn’t even occurred to me that the phone call could be related to the Vegas thing. All that delicious food in my stomach suddenly turned into a heavy block of ice.

Sensing a longer adult conversation, Riley got up and went to use the bathroom. “Seriously?” my brother asked Juliet, standing up and going around the table to stand next to her. “I mean . . . when? Why?”