"This lot had better be an improvement on the last bunch," remarked Therese Orage, settling into the leather chair with an aristocrat's debonair ease. "Really, Bane, don't think you've taken your office makeover a little too far? There's enough black leather in this room to make the Marquis de Sade keel over."

 "Blame my assistant. She chose the décor." Blue was idling in a similar chair, feet up on the desk. "I'll admit perhaps I should have said more than 'make it imposing'."

 Chatoya glanced around the room. Dark panelling and high narrow windows were the order of the day, while two vast mirrors flanked the desk, allowing whatever unfortunate was on the wrong side of it to see their own quaking image reflected back a thousand-fold. "The red carpet's over the top."

 "Hides the stains," murmured Therese. "Quite sensible of the girl."

 "Quite tacky," Chatoya pointed out.

 "Come on, darling, Bane isn't known for his fashion sense."

 "I'm right here," pointed out Blue levelly.

 "Sorry." Therese whirled her chair to face him, and said mildly. "Bane, you aren't known for your fashion sense."

 He shrugged. "Call me old-fashioned, but when our potential recruits walk in, I don't want their first thought to be 'oooh, he's been reading Vogue.'"

 Not likely, Chatoya thought. I'm sure word's already got out about you. "I don't think you'll have to worry."

 "So, what's Bane told you about today?" enquired Therese pleasantly. Her sleepy voice was as deceptive as her sloe-black eyes, sultry and heavy-lidded. "After all, this is the first time you've met any of our recruits, isn't it?"

 "The ones you haven't moulded into ruthless killing machines, yes," she said a trifle sourly. She had met some of the current trainees. Well, replace 'met' with 'been attacked by', and it was slightly more accurate. Despite herself, she was finding it hard to adjust to an atmosphere where a little light-hearted violence was considered the equivalent of a handshake and a conversation about the weather.

 "Well, before we send them off to Bane and Nightfire, you and I get to have a look at what our recruiters have scrounged."

 She held up a hand. "Why is it that we all recruit but Nightfire trains them?"

 "When it comes to weapons, Nightfire has the experts," answered Therese. "It's just tradition. If you like spending your time dabbling in poison and politics, it's me you'll be dealing with, and if spending your time wading through research, old family trees and sect-related activities makes you feel all hot and tingly, Pursang gets you. It's just more efficient that way; keeps all the information in one place."

 "And all our members in one place," added Blue, throwing in a rare elucidation. "If I want an expert on antiques, I don't want to have to search through my own people and then call up Pursang and K'Shaia to be sure I've assigned the best person."

 "Nerine de Villiers," Chatoya put in wryly. "If there's anything that woman doesn't know about furniture, I have yet to find it out."

 "She doesn't know much about Ikea," muttered Therese. "One of my bright young things wasn't quite bright enough to realise you shouldn't call her up to ask her how you assemble flatpack furniture."

 Chatoya winced. "Did she ask him round for tea?"

 "Mmm. It's very lucky for him Nerine was feeling merciful. And it's even luckier that her shenanigans mean I keep a ready supply of antidote about."

 "She's never tried to poison me," pointed out Blue with a hint of smugness.

 "Surprise, surprise." Therese shook her head. "After you killed her father, she always said it would be a shame to rid the world of someone who used the subtle arts of poison with the delicacy and grace of a rabid rhinoceros."

 Chatoya covered a smile. It had surprised her to learn that for all his mighty reputation, Blue had his stumbling blocks.

 "Which is why K'Shaia got you, and Nightfire got me," replied Blue.

 "What is it you look for, then?" she asked, glancing from one inhuman face to the other. "Surely it must differ between each of us?"

 "In certain respects," Blue said coolly. "But Aspen only went to Pursang because I'd already decided I wanted Nightfire."

 The arrogance of that remark was breathtaking, exposing his ambition like a flash of armour. It was impossible for her to comprehend the scope of his determination; that even as a spooky child, he had decided to rule.

 "There's really only two things we all look for," Therese said thoughtfully. "Killer instinct, and a will to survive. Which might not sound like much, but if we're going to throw them into Hades, I don't want to waste my time and money on someone who's only going to get eaten by whatever's feeling hungry that day. But it can be hard to assess whether they really have the kind of grit we need."

 "Hardly." Blue's eyes were cool and scornful. "I warned you that Lithuanian boy wouldn't last ten minutes. Your judgement has become flawed, Telerana. A year ago, you would have kicked him back onto the streets."

 "My judgement?" A note of ice crept into Therese's voice, and her body had the rigid curve of a snake, holding itself ready for the strike. "I have heard some strange stories about Nightfire, lately, Bane. Stories which have nothing do with this witch and everything to do with you."

Chatoya was keeping silent; this was not her argument and she had no intention of being dragged into it.

 He laughed, a hard mocking sound. "Did they disturb you, Telerana? You frighten so easily, now."

 Something was going on that was beyond her. Therese had an ashen tone to her skin, and the casual cruelty was drifting through Blue's voice, brushing away her confidence like an archaeologist unearthing a tomb.

 "Sometimes," the vampire said, and her words were weighted by a very adult weariness, "I think you very gauche. Do you think you've seen everything to be seen in this world? Do you think because you have had the smallest glimpse of love, and petty love at that, you can understand me?"

 "This is nothing to do with love."

 "It is everything to do with it," she snapped back, her voice raw with passion. "My judgement hasn't failed because I made one mistake. I have lost nothing I regret losing, and whatever my emotions may be, I am quite capable of keeping them separate from my work!"

 I don't think either of you are doing a particularly good job of that, Chatoya thought, but only in the furthest reaches of her mind, where neither of them could hear.

 "It's nearly nine," she pointed out mildly, as if this were nothing more than a civil conversation.

 Therese's forked tongue flickered between her lips. "So it is." Her eyes were still full of vehemence, but her voice at least had fallen back into its languorous cadence. "Have your assistant send in some coffee, Bane. I can only face so much idiocy unsupported."

 Chatoya cast a quick sideways look at Blue. The look he wore - thoughtful, ruthless, poisonous - stole what remained of her composure.

~*~

"Diablo. Ladies." The vampire before them executed a neat bow which held only token respect. "The pickings are thin. The old families have fewer heirs for us to choose from and though there are certainly many of a...violent nature, few have any kind of skill to go with such crass attitudes. Nonetheless, we have found four I think might be suitable for our needs."

 "Where is it you search?" she asked, and the man looked startled by her interruption. Nonetheless, those mild brown eyes met hers, scrutinising her as if to determine for himself whether he felt it necessary to answer.

 "Several of us have links to the established families," he said finally. "We also search through areas known to be dangerous and highly populated by Nightpeople. City slums, war zones, particularly volatile countries. And of course, we have our own families."

 "Not among humans, then?" she enquired.

 The man snorted. "Hardly! A human could not sur-"

 "A human has." Blue's voice chopped across his protests.

 "Barely!" squeaked the man. "That mortal was exceptional, Diablo. And she was very probably so because of prolonged contact with you. I doubt there are many like her."

 "I'm not sure I see your logic there, Daniel. Exceptional people exist everywhere. You're in a room with three of them."

 Chatoya masked her surprise at the compliment. Even Therese raised inquisitive eyebrows before displaying a face full of menacing interest to the ill-fated Daniel.

 "You...you want us to search among humans?" The man was virtually quaking in his boots.

 Blue glanced at her, and she saw the glint of devilment in his eyes. It had never occurred to her that he enjoyed his job; at least, not the bureaucratic end of it. "It's a novel idea."

 "Employing humans will give us an edge," she said simply, adding in the confines of her head, and it will give me more people whose natural alignment isn't to all things fanged. "Very few Nightpeople consider humans to be a threat. And, of course, it gives you a much wider pool to search from."

 "I think it unwise," Therese stated, her voice empty of malice. It was a business decision, nothing more, and personal differences had been put aside. "Humans are far easier to kill. They have none of our powers - they lack our speed, our strength - even something as simple as telepathy."

 "Telepathy can be learned," she argued. "And I don't have your speed nor your strength, but I'm behind this desk while Daniel is in front of it."

 Daniel didn't look happy to be highlighted in conversation. In fact, he had the air of a man who was wishing he'd listened to his parents when they'd said that law offered a good career path.
 
 "A compromise then," murmured Blue, from whose lips Chatoya had never suspected such words could spring. "A two-year trial, and if any humans survive the training, we will recruit them on a more permanent basis."

 Chatoya met Therese's eyes. When did he start being the rational one? their shared gaze asked.

 "All right," she said.

 Therese nodded stiffly. "Very well, Bane. But I still think it a fool's idea."

 "Killer instinct and survival," he reminded her. "That's all we require, Therese. Why should humans have any less ability than us?"

  After all, he added for her benefit alone, I thought the same of witches once.

 It was quite a concession. Get used to making them, she told him silently. Yet she couldn't help but feel pleased by his words; she thought he knew it too.