Chapter Five

"Oh, you can't see him. He's a poltergeist. Actually, he's part of the security team too . . . in a way.

He's somehow attached to the land this house is built on, but don't worry. If you have permission to be here, he'll leave you alone."

Shamira gulped. "Great. Poltergeist."

"Yeah. So if you see the television on in the break room, don't turn it off. He loves soap operas." Then, as if that wasn't a weird conversation stopper, Clara continued.

"Cowboy guy there is Henry. He's a dom. The ones standing are doms if you haven't figured that out, and the kneeling ones are submissives. Lillian and Renata are the only two switches."

"Anyway, Henry and the blond guy on his knees, whose name is Bjorne, are both enforcers. Means basically they run errands, interact with the public and help keep the peace. You and Henry have a lot in common. He was a sheriff back in his mortal days. Both he and Bjorne are vampires: Bjorne is a shadow and Henry is a fledgling, but only for another six months."

"So age has nothing to do with being dominant or submissive?"

"Nope. Your personality doesn't change when you die or get older. Your body doesn't change either. So don't get a haircut unless you want to keep it for eternity.

Still, saves a ton of time on shaving your legs." She looked at the remaining folk in the room. "Let's see, a Hispanic guy on his knees is Raul, and he's a werewolf. Crap, he's security too. Never mind what I said about it being all girls earlier."

"I probably wouldn't remember it anyway."

"It's kind of a lot to remember, I know. Banshee is a shadow, but she'll be a full-blown vamp in ten years. At that point, she'll take on more responsibility in the organization and will have to give up being one of Shane's assassins."

"Assassins?"

Clara nodded. "There are very bad things out there, Shamira, and sometimes the best way to stop wholesale carnage is a tactical strike. Banshee was Yakuza back before the word became trendy, and she's good at what she does.

It'll be hard to replace her, but Shane's already looking. He'd like her to train her own replacement."

"You said 'one of' earlier. How many assassins does Shane have?"

"Two at the moment. Keep in mind, that Shane hasn't had this gig long, so he doesn't have his full staff. Most of us have been with him for a while. Reaper is the youngest of us."

"Reaper's the big black guy isn't he?"

Clara smiled. "You guessed it. Doesn't surprise you, does it? Reaper got brought over about eight years ago. He was in special forces in the army, but one of those sub-organizations that doesn't technically or legally exist. He's the best sniper that I've ever seen, and he's scary and dangerous. He's a real bonus to Shane, and he's the loyal sort. Get on his good side, and you've got a very lethal friend for life. Cross him --"

"I think I get the idea," Shamira said.

The crowd had begun dispersing, and Shane had noticed them. He made a motion with his head, causing Clara to nod. He wandered through a set of double doors, and Clara grabbed Shamira by the arm and led her after him.

She found herself in a dining room big enough to play jai-alai in if she knew how to play that game. Shane sat in a grand chair at one end.

"Please," he said in a voice as warm as fresh-baked bread, "please sit down. I'm glad to see you up and about, Miss Shamira."

"I'm glad to be up and about," she replied nervously, sitting down. 'Remember, if they wanted to kill you . . . well, I guess they did technically kill you. Okay, if they wanted you to stay dead --'

"You look remarkably well," he added, looking for the remnants of her wounds. "You should still have some indications of your ordeal, but I see none."

Clara sat down next to Shamira, sandwiching the muscular woman between the other two vamps. It was a thought that made Shamira tingle in ways she couldn't explain.

"I talked with Lillian while Shamira rested, and we agreed; we think she may be a Shadow Healer."

"A what?" Shamira asked.

"Really?" Shane looked enormously pleased. "That would explain it." He looked at Shamira's confused expression. "Occasionally, vampires gain extra abilities, but usually not until they get older.

These abilities vary widely, and we call these abilities 'Aspects.' Shadow Healing is a very rare and wondrous Aspect.

If true, it would mean that you would heal at a vastly increased rate when in total darkness, even more so than normal vampires."

"How can you know for sure?"

"Hurt you, stick you in a closet, and see how long it takes for you to heal."

Shamira blanched. "That doesn't sound like fun at all."

Shane smiled. "I understand, but it would be good to figure out." He realized something. "So you've accepted that you're a vampire? I just realized that you're actually handling this quite well."

She shrugged. "Occam's razor."

It was Clara's turn to look confused, but Shane just looked pleased.

Shamira continued. "It's something I picked up in a basic psychology course back in college. It means that given multiple alternative viable explanations, the simplest one should be believed.

Not that it's claiming that explanation is the truth, but just that you should believe it. I've seen some weird shit since being here, but it makes sense based on the legends and all. So, walks like a vampire, talks like a vampire, or a werewolf or a witch or whatever --"

"Then it makes sense to take it at face value," Shane finished. "Well done. Anyway, we could test our theory about you being a Shadow Healer with a minor cut, something that wouldn't have even been dangerous if you were still alive."

"I guess that'd be okay," she thought, genuinely curious now.

"Clara, close the doors and stand by the light switch." He waited until she was in place, then drew a pocket knife.

Making sure there weren't any potentially glowing items in the room, he drew the knife quickly across Shamira's palm.

"Fucking ouch!" Shamira said just before the lights went out.

"We'll try for ten seconds and see how it's doing," came Shane's voice. "Normally, you would need to feed at least a little to heal, otherwise it would take --"

The lights came back on. Shamira's palm had a barely perceptible red line running across her palm, and she felt no pain.

"Now THAT'S fast!" Clara said.

"She's a Shadow Healer all right."