“That charlatan! No, my lord, my king, Jean-Claude, please do not turn to Carlo. He has no eye, no feel for the metal.”

“You are a master of metalwork, Melchior, that is true, but it has been said that Carlo has a better eye for jewels. I prefer the jewels to the metalwork, so perhaps it’s just as well.”

“My lord, you must be teasing me.”

I was right up next to Irene now. Her feet were at odd angles. The vampire ignored me as if I weren’t standing right next to his servant’s body. He discounted me completely. I wasn’t sure if it was my being human, being female, or both, but either way I’d had enough. I moved a little behind Irene’s body and foot-swept her legs out from under her. She fell so suddenly that if I hadn’t been more than human-fast I couldn’t have caught her in time. I held her in my arms and stared into her eyes and could finally see that they weren’t as black as her hair, but a deep, rich brown. I smiled into those startled brown eyes and said, “You can’t feel her feet. If I hadn’t caught her she could have been hurt.”

“What is your servant doing?” He turned Irene’s face to look at Jean-Claude again, rather than me, though my face was inches from his.

“If you can’t feel her body perfectly, it makes me wonder how tight your bond is with your human servant. It makes me wonder how hard it would be to give Irene a choice.” I whispered that last against her cheek, their cheek.

Either he felt my breath or the whisper had gotten his attention, because he turned her face to look at me. “What are you talking about, woman?”

I smiled, and knew it was my unpleasant smile, the one that said I could do really awful things and never stop smiling. It wasn’t voluntary, and it always unnerved people for some reason. “Look into my eyes, Melchior.”

He gave a little chuckle. “That’s our line, surely.”

I felt my necromancy open like a fist too long closed. The power marched across my skin in a wave of goose bumps and hit Irene’s skin where we touched.

“What is that?” He looked again at Jean-Claude. “Is that you, my lord?”

Jean-Claude shook his head and smiled.

Those brown eyes turned back to me. I was still holding Irene’s body in my arms as if she weighed nothing, and she couldn’t have been much over a hundred pounds. Her body was fragile, as if too many of her bones were too close to the surface, and again I thought she’d spent too much of her human life near starvation. It left its mark on you, and that thought wasn’t mine, nor were the memories that went with it. Jean-Claude had been born poor, and he had memories of going to bed hungry, of listening to his sister’s cry from lack of food.

“It is you, my lord, I see your eyes in her face,” and the voice was happy again, satisfied.

I closed my eyes and called my power, chasing back Jean-Claude’s memories. When I opened my eyes again, Irene was afraid of whatever she saw there. “Your eyes . . . they are cognac diamonds in the sun, so bright . . .” I knew it was my eyes as if I’d been my own vampire. I’d seen it happen before by accident, but lately I’d been able to do it when I wanted to do it.

“Go away, Melchior; leave Irene free to answer a question for me.”

“What question?” He still sounded arrogant, even with fear in the edges of her eyes.

“I will ask her if she wishes to be free of you. Free to find a lover that you won’t kill if he interferes with her work. Free to have a life outside your workrooms.”

“She is my human servant; only death will free us of each other.”

“Irene has met our Black Jade; her master is still alive, but his tiger to call now answers to me.” I whispered it into her face from inches away, as if I meant to kiss her.

She swallowed hard, and I could see her pulse beating against the side of her thin neck like a trapped bird in a net. One of them was afraid of me.

“Only the Mother of All Darkness was able to break such bonds.” But his voice didn’t sound so sure of itself now.

“And who killed her, Melchior?”

“Jean-Claude did.”

I smiled a little wider, and it was still unpleasant. I held Irene a little closer to me, straightening up, so I wasn’t having to bend my back at quite the odd angle. “And what weapon did he use to kill the night herself?”

He stared at me, the fear spilling through more of those brown eyes. “You,” he whispered.

“If Irene wishes to be free of you, we can make that happen.”

“It is forbidden,” he said.

“I don’t like slavery. I think it’s so 1800. If I think that Irene is just a slave for you, then I’ll see that as breaking the law, Melchior.”

“Breaking what law?” he asked, and started trying to push Irene’s thin hands against my chest. He couldn’t use her hands right, as if even now he couldn’t really feel her body. When Jean-Claude and I shared like this we got every sensation, but then we never did the whole puppet thing; maybe that’s what made the difference. We shared emotions, and physical sensations, not this possession.

“Slavery has been illegal here since 1865,” I said.

“That is human law, not vampire law.”

“But we are now subject to human law, Melchior,” Jean-Claude said.

The vampire pushed at me clumsily with Irene’s hands. “This is not what the new laws mean. It is one of our greatest taboos to interfere with another master’s human servant.”