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caught his attention then. For just a flit of a second, Sigurd thought he smelled lemons. But maybe it was just the residual fog left by Goldman.
    “Besides, I think you exaggerate his evil intentions. It’s more like lustful intentions. And all men have those.” She clearly included him in that lot.
    Then she was gone, and he berated himself for caring what trouble a dim-witted female would find herself in. He had enough trouble in his own sorry life.
    Still, he couldn’t help but stare at said dim-witted female’s arse as she climbed the steps in front of the hotel. Up, down, up, down, the curvy buttocks went.
    Karl came up to him then. “Ready?”
    Bloody hell, yes, he was ready. But enough of that!
    Sigurd waved a hand in front of his face. “Your breath smells like cigarettes.”
    “So don’t kiss me.”
    “Ha, ha, ha.” Sigurd continued to watch Marisa’s progress, and never once did she turn to give him a second look. He was unaccustomed to being dismissed so easily.
    “What are you gaping at?” Karl asked.
    “My mission,” he said. Where that thought came from, he had no idea.
    Karl raised his brows as he focused in on Marisa, who was talking with a hotel doorman. “I thought our mission was to save sinners and wipe out Lucies.”
    “This is my personal mission.”
    “Uh-oh. Sounds like trouble to me.”
    “Trouble, challenge . . . same thing to a Viking.”
    Sigurd realized too late that Northmen throughout the ages had been getting into trouble by making similar lackwitted pronouncements.
His favorite drink: Sin on the Rocks . . .
    Jasper and fifty of his favorite Lucipires were on their way to Grand Keys Island off the Florida Keys for what he jokingly called a “working vacation.” Unfortunately, demon vampires didn’t have much of a sense of humor, and none of them understood the joke.
    Or mayhap they were just a grouchy lot today. That was probably the case. Demons didn’t consider the extreme heat of an island to be their idea of paradise, despite the legends about Satan rollicking in the fires of Hell. Hah! Satan relished air-conditioning as much as the next guy.
    It didn’t help matters that his hired boat had stalled halfway between Miami and the island destination. Who knew that a hundred-foot yacht could stall? A mechanic was down in the engine room now fixing the problem. Luckily, the Lucipires had harvested a cruise ship’s captain and some of the crew on a mission last year, and they were now full-fledged demon vampires. Unluckily, a gaggle of imps and hordlings had tried to solve the problem first and created nothing but chaos.
    Jasper was lying on a chaise longue in the glassed-in salon when his French hordling assistant, Beltane, came in.
    “Master,” Beltane said, “I brought you some refreshments.” Beltane carried a tray of tall glasses of iced pink lemonade.
    Jasper did so love the scent of lemons, and the pink color came from the generous dollops of human blood added for flavor. One of the Lucipires had drained a quart from a teenage prostitute last night, so it was especially fresh. There was also a small bowl of caviar sprinkled with hard-boiled egg crumbles with pita bread triangles for dipping. His favorite snack. Blood and caviar. Yum!
    Beltane was thoughtful that way, mainly because the young Creole truly adored Jasper. Lots of Lucipires, from imps to haakai, pretended affection for Jasper, but he was not fooled. Ingratiating maggots, most of them. Unlike Beltane, who had been sorely abused growing up in antebellum New Orleans before the demon vampires took him into their fold. He appreciated his new life.
    “Thank you, Beltane. Is the mechanic making any progress?”
    Beltane rolled his red eyes. “The man curses every other word, in both Spanish and English, but I believe we will be under way within the hour.”
    “Good, good! You look very nice today, Beltane.”
    Beltane was dressed for island living, wearing a gaudily bright floral shirt over white